presented  to  the 
UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 

by 

Dr.   Carl  Eckart 


Twelfth  Night; 

or,  What  You  Will. 


CLOWN    (sings) : 


"  'Come  away,   come  away,   death'  " 

TWELFTH    NIGHT   Act  II  Scene  4 


"  ' 


/ 


BOOKLOVERS 
EDITION 


TWELFTH  NIGHT 
OTHELLO 

By 

WILLIAM 
SHAKESPEARE 


i> 


Introductions. 
Notes,  Glossary. 
Critical  Comments, 
and  MetKod  of  Study 


THE  UNIVERSITY  SOCIETY 

NEW  YORK 


Copyright,   1901 

By 
THE  UNIVERSITY  SOCIETY  INC. 


Manufactured  in  the  U.  S.  A 


TWELFTH    NIGHT; 
Or,  WHAT   YOU   WILL 

Preface. 

The  First  Edition.  Twelfth  Night;  or,  What  You 
Will,  was  first  printed  in  the  First  Folio,  where  it  occu- 
pies pages  255-275  in  the  division  of  Comedies.  There  is 
no  record  of  any  earlier  edition.  The  text  is  singularly 
free  from  misprints  and  corruptions.  The  list  of  '  Dra- 
matis Personae  '  was  first  given  by  Rowe,  as  in  the  case  of 
many  of  the  plays. 

The  Date  of  Composition.  John  Manningham,  a 
member  of  the  Middle  Temple  from  January  i6oi(-2) 
to  April,  1603,  entered  in  his  Diary,  preserved  in  the  Brit- 
ish Museum  (MS.  Harleian  5353),*  the  following  state- 
ment : — 

"  Feb.  2,  i6oi(-2).^At  our  feast,  we  had  a  play  called 
Twelve  Night,  or  What  You  Will.  Much  like  the  Com- 
edy of  Errors,  or  Menechmi  in  Plautus ;  but  most  like  and 
near  to  that  in  Italian  called  Inganni.  A  good  practise 
in  it  to  make  the  steward  believe  his  lady  widowe  was  in 
love  with  him,  by  counterfeiting  as  from  his  lady  in  gen- 
eral terms,  telling  him  what  she  liked  best  in  him,  and 
prescribing  his  gesture  in  smiling,  his  apparel,  etc.,  and 
then  when  he  came  to  practise,  making  him  believe  they 
took  him  to  be  mad,"  etc.  Seeing  that  Tzvelfth  Night  is 
not  mentioned  by  Meres  in  1598,  and  as  the  play  contains 
fragments  of  the  song  '  Fareivell,  dear  heart,  since  I  must 

*  Cp.  The  Diary  of  John  Manningham,  ed.  by  John  Bruce 
(Camden  Society,  1869). 


Preface  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

needs  be  gone,'  from  the  Book  of  Ayres,  by  Robert  Jones, 
first  published  in  1601,  the  date  of  composition  may  with 
some  certainty  be  assigned  to  1601-2. 

Title  of  the  Play.  According-  to  Halliwell-Phillipps, 
Twelfth  Night  was  one  of  four  plays  acted  by  Shake- 
speare's Company,  '  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  servants,'  be- 
fore the  Court  at  Whitehall  during  the  Christmas  of 
1601-2:  possibly  it  owed  its  name  to  the  circumstance  that 
it  was  first  acted  as  the  Twelfth-Night  performance  on 
that  occasion.  Others  hold  that  the  name  of  the  play  was 
suggested  by  '  its  embodiment  of  the  spirit  of  the 
Twelfth-Night  sports  and  revels — a  time  devoted  to  fes- 
tivity and  merriment.'  Its  second  name,  '  Or  What  You 
Will,'  was  perhaps  given  in  something  of  the  same  spirit 
as  'As  You  Like  It' ;  it  probably  implies  that  the  first 
title  has  no  very  special  meaning.  It  has  been  suggested 
that  the  name  expresses  Shakespeare's  indifference  to  his 
own  production — that  it  was  a  sort  of  farewell  to  Comedy  : 
in  his  subsequent  plays  the  tragic  element  was  to  pre- 
dominate. This  far-fetched  subtle  view  of  the  matter 
has  certainly  little  to  commend  it.* 

The  Sources  of  the  Plot,  (i.)  There  are  at  least  two 
Italian  plays  called  Gl'Inganni  (The  Cheats),  to  which 
Manningham  may  have  referred  in  his  entry  as  contain- 
ing incidents  resembling  those  of  Twelfth  Night;  one  of 
these  plays,  by  Nicolo  Secchi,  was  printed  in  1562;  an- 
other by  Curzio  Gonzalo,  was  first  published  in  1592.  In 
the  latter  play  the  sister,  who  dresses  as  a  man,  and  is 
mistaken  for  her  brother,  gives  herself  the  name  of  Ce- 
sare,  and  it  seems  likely  that  we  have  here  the  source  of 
Shakespeare's  '  Cesario.'  (ii.)  A  third  play,  however,  en- 
titled Gl'Ingannati  (Venice,  1537),  translated  by  Pea- 
cock in  1862,  bears  a  much  stronger  resemblance  to 
Twelfth  Night;  in  its  poetical  induction,  //  Sacrificio,  oc- 

*  Mansion  took  the  name  What  You  Will  for  a  play  of  his  own 
in  1607. 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Preface 

curs  the  name  '  Malevolti,'  which  is  at  least  suggestive  of 
the  name  '  Malvolio.'  (iii. )  The  ultimate  source  of  the 
story  is  undoubtedly  Bandello's  Novclle  (II.  36),  whence 
it  passed  into  Belief  crest's  Histoircs  Tragiques  (Vol.  IV. 
Hist,  vii.)  ;  an  English  version  of  the  story — probably 
Shakespeare's  original  for  the  general  framework  of  his 
Comedy — found  a  place  in  Barnaby  Rich's  Farezvell  to  the 
Military e  Profession  (1581),  where  it  is  styled  '  The  His- 
tory of  Apollonins  and  Sill  a ' ;  Rich,  no  doubt,  derived  it 
from  Cinthio's  Hecatomithi;  Cinthio  in  his  turn  was  in- 
debted to  Bandello.  (Rich's  Apollonius  and  Silla  is 
printed  in  Hazlitt's  Shakespeare's  Library,  Part  I,  Vol. 

I.) 

For  the  secondary  plot,  the  story  of  '  Malvoglio,  that 
cross-gartered  gull/  no  source  exists ;  Malvolio,  Sir  Toby 
Belch,  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek,  Fabian,  Feste,  and  Maria, 
are  wholly  Shakespeare's. 

Backward  Links.  Twelfth  Night,  probably  the  last 
of  the  joyous  comedies,  holding  a  middle  place  between 
As  Yon  Like  It  and  All 's  Well,  suggests  noteworthy 
points  of  contact  with  earlier  plays : — e.g.  ( I )  the  dis- 
guised Viola  may  well  be  compared  with  the  disguised 
Julia  in  The  Two  Gentlemen  ;  (2)  the  story  of  the  wreck 
recalls  the  similar  episode  in  The  Comedy  of  Errors',  (3) 
the  whole  play  is  in  fact  a  '  Comedy  of  Errors  '  arising 
from  mistaken  identity;  (4)  the  sentiment  of  music 
breathes  throughout,  as  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice, 

'  like    the   sweet   sound 
That  breathes  upon  a  bank   of  violets, 
Stealing  and  giving  odour'; 

(5)  alike,  too,  in  both  these  plays  the  faithful  friend  is 
named  Antonio;  (6)  in  Viola's  confession  of  her  secret 
love  (II.  iv.  113-121)  we  have  a  fuller  chord  of  the  note 
struck  in  Love's  Labour  's  Lost  (V.  ii.  14-18)  ;  (7)  finally, 
Sir  Andre  is  a  sort  of  elder  brother  of  Cousin  Slender; 
and  Sir  Toby  Belch  a  near  kinsman  of  Sir  John  Falstaff. 


Preface  TWELFTH  NIGHT 

Duration  of  Action.  The  Action  of  Twelfth  Night  oc- 
cupies three  days,  with  an  interval  of  three  days  between 
the  first  and  second  days : — 

Day  i,  Act  I.  i.  iii.  Interval.  Day  2,  Act  1.  iv.  and  v. ; 
Act  II.  i.  iii.  Day  3,  Act  II.  iv.  and  v. ;  Acts  III.,  IV., 
and  V. 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Critical  Comments, 
i. 

Argument. 

I.  Sebastian  and  Viola,  twins,  are  separated  by  ship- 
wreck and  each  believes  the  other  lost.     Viola  is  cast 
ashore  on  the  coast  of  Illyria.    She  thereupon  dons  male 
attire  and  obtains  service  as  page  with  the  Duke  Orsino, 
who  has  been  vainly  suing  for  the  hand  of  Olivia,  a  native 
lady.    The  Duke  is  pleased  with  the  appearance  of  his 
new  page  and  sends  Viola  to  pay  court  for  him  to  Olivia, 
which  she  does  with  so  much  gracefulness  and  eloquence 
that  the  lady  becomes  enamoured  of  the  supposed  youth 
instead  of  the  master. 

II.  Olivia  sends   favours  and  messages  to  Viola  in 
which,  naturally,  the  latter  takes  no  interest.     Viola,  in 
turn,  has  conceived  a  passion  for  the  Duke,  which  she 
is  compelled  to  hide. 

Olivia's  steward,  Malvolio,  is  so  priggish  and  conceited 
that  others  of  her  household  contrive  a  practical  joke 
against  him,  sending  him  an  anonymous  love-letter 
which  he  is  given  to  believe  is  from  Olivia  herself. 

III.  Malvolio  follows  instructions  contained  in  the  let- 
ter, and  behaves  so  ridiculously  that  his  mistress  believes 
him  demented.     Meanwhile  Olivia's  love  for  Viola  be- 
comes so  intense  that  she  sues  openly  to  the  fictitious 
page,  much  to  the  latter's  distress.     Sir  Andrew  Ague- 
cheek,  a  foolish  suitor  of  Olivia's,  is  displeased  at  the 
favours  shown  the  page,  and  in  a  spirit  of  bravado  chal- 
lenges Viola.    Though  both  are  eager  to  avoid  the  con- 
flict, it  is  only  averted  by  the  arrival  of  officers. 


Comments  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

IV.  Sebastian,  Viola's  brother,  who  was  also  cast  up 
by  the  sea,  comes  to  Illyria.    He  looks  so  much  like  his 
sister — especially  since  she  is  in  men's  garments — that 
Sir  Andrew  mistakes  him  for  the  page  and  renews  the 
fight.     This   time  he  does   not  encounter  a   woman's 
shrinking  spirit  or  weak  arm,  and  he  is  soundly  bela- 
boured.    Soon  after,  Olivia  also  meets  Sebastian,  sup- 
poses him  to  be  Viola  and  reiterates  her  devotion.     The 
delighted  Sebastian  returns  love  for  love  and  they  are  se- 
cretly espoused  before  a  priest. 

V.  Olivia  encounters  Viola  in  company  with  the  Duke 
and  greets  her  by  the  title  of  husband.    The  bewildered 
page  disavows  the  title,  but  the  priest  who  performed  the 
ceremony  vouches  for  it.    The  Duke  is  much  disgruntled 
that  his  favourite  page  should  so  abuse  his  confidence. 
Viola   is    meeting   with    general    disfavour,    when    her 
brother  Sebastian  arrives  on  the  scene,  and  the  two  who 
had  thought  each  other  dead  are   reunited.     Olivia  dis- 
covers that  she  has  espoused  the  brother,  after  having 
wooed  the  sister,  while  the  Duke  finds  that  his  attachment 
for  his  page  becomes  love  when  Viola  resumes  her  fem- 
inine attire. 

The  secret  of  Malvolio's  dementia  is  revealed,  and  he 
is  released  from  the  confinement  in  which  he  has  been 
held. 

MCSPADDEN  :  Shakespearian  Synopses. 

II. 
Viola. 

As  the  innate  dignity  of  Perdita  pierces  through  her 
rustic  disguise,  so  the  exquisite  refinement  of  Viola  tri- 
umphs over  her  masculine  attire.  Viola  is,  perhaps,  in  a 
degree  less  elevated  and  ideal  than  Perdita,  but  with  a 
touch  of  sentiment  more  profound  and  heart-stirring; 
she  is  "  deep-learned  in  the  lore  of  love  " — at  least  theo- 

6 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Comments 

retically — and  speaks  as  masterly  on  the  subject  as  Per- 
dita  does  of  flowers. 

The  situation  and  the  character  of  Viola  have  been 
censured  for  their  want  of  consistency  and  probability; 
it  is  therefore  worth  while  to  examine  how  far  this  criti- 
cism is  true.  As  for  her  situation  in  the  drama  (of  which 
she  is  properly  the  heroine)  it  is  shortly  this :  She  is  ship- 
wrecked on  the  coast  of  Illyria:  she  is  alone  and  without 
protection  in  a  strange  country.  She  wishes  to  enter 
into  the  service  of  the  Countess  Olivia;  but  she  is  as- 
sured that  this  is  impossible;  "  for  the  lady,  having  re- 
cently lost  an  only  and  beloved  brother,  has  abjured  the 
sight  of  men,  has  shut  herself  up  in  her  palace,  and  will 
admit  no  kind  of  suit."  In  this  perplexity  Viola  remem- 
bers to  have  heard  her  father  speak  with  praise  and 
admiration  of  Orsino,  the  Duke  of  the  country ;  and 
having  ascertained  that  he  is  not  married,  and  that  there- 
fore his  court  is  not  a  proper  asylum  for  her  in  her 
feminine  character,  she  attires  herself  in  the  disguise  of 
a  page,  as  the  best  protection  against  uncivil  comments, 
till  she  can  gain  some  tidings  of  her  brother. 

If  we  carry  our  thoughts  back  to  a  romantic  and  chiv- 
alrous age,  there  is  surely  sufficient  probability  here  for 
all  the  purposes  of  poetry.  To  pursue  the  thread  of 
Viola's  destiny; — she  is  engaged  in  the  service  of  the 
Duke,  whom  she  finds  "  fancy-sick  "  for  the  love  of 
Olivia.  We  are  left  to  infer  (for  so  it  is  hinted  in  the  first 
scene)  that  this  Duke — who,  with  his  accomplishments 
and  his  personal  attractions,  his  taste  for  music,  his 
chivalrous  tenderness,  and  his  unrequited  love,  is  really 
a  very  fascinating  and  poetical  personage,  though  a  little 
passionate  and  fantastic — had  already  made  some  im- 
pression on  Viola's  imagination;  and,  when  she  comes 
to  play  the  confidante,  and  to  be  loaded  with  favours  and 
kindness  in  her  assumed  character,  that  she  should  be 
touched  by  a  passion  made  up  of  pity,  admiration,  grati- 
tude, and  tenderness,  does  not,  I  think,  in  any  way  de- 


Comments  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

tract  from  the  genuine  sweetness  and  delicacy  of  her 
character,  for  "  she  never  told  her  love." 

Now  all  this,  as  the  critic  wisely  observes,  may  not 
present  a  very  just  picture  of  life;  and  it  may  also  fail  to 
impart  any  moral  lesson  for  the  especial  profit  of  well- 
bred  young  ladies:  but  is  it  not  in  truth  and  in  nature? 
Did  it  ever  fail  to  charm  or  to  interest,  to  seize  on  the 
coldest  fancy,  to  touch  the  most  insensible  heart  ? 

Viola  then  is  the  chosen  favourite  of  the  enamoured 
Duke,  and  becomes  his  messenger  to  Olivia,  and  the  in- 
terpreter of  his  sufferings  to  that  inaccessible  beauty.  In 
her  character  of  a  youthful  page,  she  attracts  the  favour 
of  Olivia,  and  excites  the  jealousy  of  her  lord.  The  situ- 
ation is  critical  and  delicate;  but  how  exquisitely  is  the 
character  of  Viola  fitted  to  her  part,  carrying  her  through 
the  ordeal  with  all  the  inward  and  spiritual  grace  of 
modesty!  What  beautiful  propriety  in  the  distinction 
drawn  between  Rosalind  and  Viola !  The  wild  sweetness, 
the  frolic  humour  which  sports  free  and  unblamed  amid 
the  shades  of  Ardennes,  would  ill  become  Viola,  whose 
playfulness  is  assumed  as  part  of  her  disguise  as  a  court- 
page,  and  is  guarded  by  the  strictest  delicacy.  She  has 
not,  like  Rosalind,  a  saucy  enjoyment  in  her  own  incog- 
nito; her  disguise  does  not  sit  so  easily  upon  her;  her 
heart  does  not  beat  freely  under  it.  As  in  the  old  ballad, 
where  "  Sweet  William  "  is  detected  weeping  in  secret 
over  her  "  man's  array,"  so  in  Viola,  a  sweet  conscious- 
ness of  her  feminine  nature  is  forever  breaking  through 
her  masquerade : — 

"  And  on  her  cheek  is  ready  with  a  blush 
Modest  as  morning,  when  she  coldly  eyes 
The  youthful  Phoebus." 

.  .  .  The  feminine  cowardice  of  Viola,  which  will 
not  allow  her  even  to  affect  a  courage  becoming  her  attire 
— her  horror  at  the  idea  of  drawing  a  sword,  is  very 
natural  and  characteristic  ;  and  produces  a  most  humorous 
effect,  even  at  the  very  moment  it  charms  and  interests  us. 

8 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Comments 

Contrasted  with  the  deep,  silent,  patient  love  of  Viola 
for  the  Duke,  we  have  the  lady-like  wilfulness  of  Olivia ; 
and  her  sudden  passion,  or  rather  fancy,  for  the  disguised 
page,  takes  so  beautiful  a  colouring  of  poetry  and  senti- 
ment, that  we  do  not  think  her  forward.  Olivia  is  like  a 
princess  of  romance,  and  has  all  the  privileges  of  one; 
she  is,  like  Portia,  high-born  and  high-bred,  mistress  over 
her  servants — but  not  like  Portia,  "  queen  o'er  herself." 
She  has  never  in  her  life  been  opposed ;  the  first  contra- 
diction, therefore,  rouses  all  the  woman  in  her,  and  turns 
a  caprice  into  a  headlong  passion ;  yet  she  apologizes  for 
herself : — 

"  I  have  said  too  much  unto  a  heart  of  stone, 
And  laid  mine  honour  too  unchary  out ; 
There  's  something  in  me  that  reproves  my  fault ; 
But  such  a  headstrong  potent  fault  it  is, 
That  it  but  mocks  reproof !  " 

And  in  the  midst  of  her  self-abandonment  never  allows 
us  to  contemn,  even  while  we  pity  her : — 

"  What  shall  you  ask  of  me  that  I  '11  deny, 
That  honour,  sav'd  may  upon  asking  give  ?  " 

The  distance  of  rank  which  separates  the  Countess 
from  the  youthful  page — the  real  sex  of  Viola — the  dig- 
nified elegance  of  Olivia's  deportment,  except  where  pas- 
sion gets  the  better  of  her  pride — her  consistent  coldness 
towards  the  Duke — the  description  of  that  "  smooth,  dis- 
creet, and  stable  bearing  "  with  which  she  rules  her  house- 
hold— her  generous  care  for  her  steward  Malvolio,  in  the 
midst  of  her  own  distress — all  these  circumstances  raise 
Olivia  in  our  fancy,  and  render  her  caprice  for  the  page 
a  source  of  amusement  and  interest,  not  a  subject  of  re- 
proach. Twelfth  Night  is  a  genuine  comedy — a  perpetual 
spring  of  the  gayest  and  the  sweetest  fancies.  In  artificial 
society  men  and  women  are  divided  into  castes  and  classes, 
and  it  is  rarely  that  extremes  in  character  or  manners  can 
approximate.  To  blend  into  one  harmonious  picture  the 
utmost  grace  and  refinement  of  sentiment  and  the  broad- 


Comments  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

est  effects  of  humour,  the  most  poignant  wit  and  the  most 
indulgent  benignity,  in  short,  to  bring  before  us  in  the 
same  scene  Viola  and  Olivia,  with  Malvolio  and  Sir  Toby, 
belonged  only  to  Nature  and  to  Shakspeare. 

MRS.  JAMESON  :   Characteristics  of  Women. 

III. 
Malvolio. 

Malvolio,  the  steward  of  Olivia's  household,  is  prized 
by  that  lady  for  his  grave  and  punctilious  disposition. 
He  discharges  his  office  carefully  and  in  a  tone  of  some 
superiority,  for  his  mind  is  above  his  estate.  At  some 
time  in  his  life  he  has  read  cultivated  books,  knows  the 
theory  of  Pythagoras  concerning  the  transmigration  of 
the  soul,  but  thinks  more  nobly  of  the  soul  and  no  way 
approves  that  opinion.  His  gentility,  though  a  little 
rusted  and  obsolete,  is  like  a  Sunday  suit  which  nobody 
thinks  of  rallying.  He  wears  it  well,  and  his  mistress 
cannot  afford  to  treat  him  exactly  as  a  servant;  in  fact, 
she  has  occasionally  dropped  good-natured  phrases 
which  he  has  interpreted  into  a  special  partiality;  for 
Quixotic  conceits  can  riot  about  inside  of  his  stiff  de- 
meanor. This  proneness  to  fantasy  increases  the  touchi- 
ness of  a  man  of  reserve.  He  can  never  take  a  joke,  and 
his  climate  is  too  inclement  to  shelter  humor.  Souls 
must  be  at  blood-heat,  and  brains  must  expand  with  it 
like  a  blossom,  before  humor  will  fructify.  He  wonders 
how  Olivia  can  tolerate  the  clown.  "  I  protest,"  he  says, 
"  I  take  these  wise  men,  that  crow  so  at  these  set  kind  of 
fools,  to  be  no  better  than  the  fools'  zanies."  Olivia 
hits  the  difficulty  when  she  replies,  "  Oh,  you  are  sick  of 
self-love,  and  taste  with  a  distempered  appetite."  Per- 
haps he  thinks  nobly  of  the  soul  because  he  so  pro- 
foundly respects  his  own,  and  carries  it  upon  stilts  over 
the  heads  of  the  servants  and  Sir  Toby  and  Sir  Andrew. 

Imagine  this  saturnine  and  self-involved  man  obliged 

10 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Comments 

to  consort  daily  with  Sir  Toby,  who  brings  his  hand  to 
the  buttery-bar  before  breakfast,  and  who  hates  going 
to  bed  "  as  an  unfilled  can,"  unless  no  more  drink  is 
forthcoming;  an  irascible  fellow,  too,  and  all  the  more 
tindery  because  continually  dry.  He  has  Sir  Andrew 
Aguecheek  for  a  boon  companion,  who  says  of  himself 
that  sometimes  he  has  no  more  wit  than  a  Christian,  or 
than  an  ordinary  man.  .  .  . 

But  the  play  does  not  let  Malvolio  drop  softly  on 
his  feet.  There  is  a  faint  grudge  provoked  by  the  ill- 
tempered  quality  of  his  conceit,  and  Shakspeare  indicates 
this  trait  of  our  nature.  The  Clown,  who  remembers 
how  the  steward  used  to  twit  Olivia's  contentment  at  his 
sallies,  and  to  deprecate  it  in  a  lofty  way,  now  mimics 
his  phrases  and  manner  to  sting  him  with  a  last  flutter- 
ing dart.  Malvolio's  pride  is  already  too  deeply  wounded, 
for  he  has  indeed  been  "  notoriously  abused."  There 
is  no  relenting  in  such  a  man  on  account  of  the  fun,  for 
that  is  a  crime  in  the  eyes  of  a  Puritan,  to  be  punished 
for  God's  sake.  His  temper  acquires  sombreness  from 
his  belief  that  total  depravity  is  a  good  doctrine  if  you 
can  only  live  up  to  it.  But  when  this  crime  of  fun  is 
perpetrated  against  the  anointed  self-esteem  of  the  Puri- 
tan himself,  it  is  plain  he  will  be  revenged  on  the  whole 
pack  of  them  unless  they  proceed  to  make  a  sop  of  defer- 
ence to  touch  his  hurt  with,  and  a  pipe  out  of  his  own 
egotism  for  sounding  a  truce. 

Shakspeare  delighted  to  mark  the  transition  of  a  vir- 
tue to  a  vice;  that  elusive  moment,  as  of  a  point  of  pas- 
sage from  one  species  to  another,  discovered  and  put 
into  a  flash  from  the  light  of  humor.  Malvolio's  grave 
and  self-respecting  temperament  is  an  excellence.  No 
decent  man  thinks  meanly  of  himself,  and  the  indecent 
ones  cannot  afford  the  disparagement.  The  pretence  of 
it  is  a  warning  to  us  to  expect  mischief,  a  notice  put  up, 
"  This  is  a  private  way  ;  dangerous  passing." 

WEISS  :  Wit,  Humor,  and  Shakspeare. 
ii 


Comments  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

IV. 
Feste,  the  Clown. 

The  Clown  in  this  play,  who,  I  am  inclined  to  think, 
should  bear  his  name  all  through  by  as  good  a  right  as 
Touchstone,  is  a  remarkable  creation,  and  very  essential 
to  the  knitting  and  coherence  of  the  general  play.  His 
musical  talent  is  most  diversified ;  he  gives  as  readily  and 
with  equal  effect  the  tender  love  song  suited  to  the 
dreamy  and  poetical  being  of  the  Duke,  or  the  noisy 
catch  that  shakes  the  rafters  and  calls  up  Malvolio  at 
midnight.  Thus  catholic  in  his  artistic  range,  he  has  a 
not  less  wide  intellectual  scope.  He  plumbs  the  depth 
accurately  of  his  mistress's  exhausted  sorrow,  penetrates 
the  destiny  of  Maria  and  Sir  Toby's  weak  pia  mater, 
holds  up  a  mirror  to  the  opalescent  humours  of  the 
Duke,  and  takes  remarkably  good  care  of  his  own  eco- 
nomical resources,  by  asking  on  every  occasion  when  he 
is  safe  to  obtain — yet  free  from  slyness  withal,  genial  and 
enjoyable,  as  he  is  free  of  speech.  Still,  apart  from  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  loyalty  to  his  mistress,  he  knows  the  world 
too  well — this  it  is  to  be  wise  and  to  suffer  for  it,  to  re- 
main very  long  in  society  of  the  same  tone,  or  to  feel 
much  sympathy  for  anybody,  or  consequently  to  get 
much  in  return.  With  no  great  interest  in  the  practical 
jests  and  bear-baitings  that  are  rife  around  him,  he  does 
not  refuse,  however,  to  gratify  his  pique  of  profession, 
by  lending  a  helping  hand  in  duping  the  churlish  steward. 

LLOYD  :  Critical  Essays  on  the  Plays  of  Shakespeare. 


Of  all  Shakspeare's  clowns,  he  is  the  best  endowed 
with  a  many-sided  mirth,  as  indeed  he  should  be  to  pass 
lightly  through  the  mingled  romance  and  roystering  of  the 
play  and  favor  all  its  moods.  The  sentiment  of  the  Duke 
is  as  inebriated  as  the  revelling  which  Malvolio  rebukes. 
Olivia's  protracted  grief  for  her  brother  is  carefully  cos- 

12 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Comments 

seted  by  her,  as  if  on  purpose  to  give  the  Clown  an 
opportunity. 

Clo.  Good  madonna,  why  mournest  thou  ? 
Oliv.  Good  fool,  for  my  brother's  death. 
Clo.  I  think  his  soul  is  in  hell,  madonna. 
Oliv.  I  know  his  soul  is  in  heaven,  fool. 

Clo.  The  more  fool,  madonna,  to  mourn  for  your  brother's  soul 
being  in  heaven. — Take  away  the  fool,  gentlemen. 

All  the  characters,  noble  and  common,  have  some 
weakness  which  he  intuitively  rallies.  The  charm  of  the 
comedy  lies  in  these  unsubstantial  moods  of  the  chief 
personages  which  consort  with  the  more  substantial 
whims  and  appetites  of  the  others.  The  only  sobriety 
is  vested  in  the  Clown;  for  all  his  freaks  have  a  con- 
sistent disposition.  So  the  lovely  poetry  of  the  mock 
mourners  alternates  with  the  tipsy  prose  of  the  genuine 
fleshly  fellows.  Their  hearty  caterwauling  penetrates  to 
Olivia's  fond  seclusion,  and  breaks  up  her  brooding. 
Feste  is  everywhere  at  home.  When  he  plays  the 
curate's  part,  Malvolio  beseechingly  cries,  "  Sir  Topas, 
Sir  Topas !  "  The  Clown  says  aside,  "  Nay,  I  am  for  all 
waters  " — that  is,  for  topaz,  diamond,  gems  of  the  first 
water,  all  many-colored  facets,  I'll  reflect.  And  he  does 
so  in  this  conversation  which  he  holds  with  Malvolio, 
who  says,  "  I  am  no  more  mad  than  you  are ;  make  the 
trial  of  it  in  any  constant  question."  Then  Feste  airs  his 
learning :  "  What  is  the  opinion  of  Pythagoras  concern- 
ing wild-fowl?"  and  makes  his  question  lead  up  to  a 
sharp  retort,  when  Malvolio  answers,  "  That  the  soul  of 
our  grandam  might  haply  inhabit  a  bird  "  ;  for  then  Feste 
says,  "  Thou  shalt  hold  the  opinion  of  Pythagoras  ere  I 
will  allow  of  thy  wits,  and  fear  to  kill  a  woodcock  lest  thou 
dispossess  the  soul  of  thy  grandam."  For  it  was  a 
country  notion  that  the  woodcock  was  the  foolishest  of 
birds ;  so  he  translates  Malvolio's  grandam  into  one,  and 
leaves  him  to  inherit  her  absence  of  wits.  And  Malvolio 
was  so  devoured  by  mortification  and  anxiety  that  he 

13 


Comments  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

does  not  notice  when  Feste  cannot  restrain  his  burlesqu- 
ing knack,  but  makes  the  pretended  curate  say  that 
Malvolio's  cell  "  hath  bay-windows,  transparent  as  barri- 
cadoes,  and  the  clearstores  toward  the  south-north  are 
as  lustrous  as  ebony." 

WEISS  :  Wit,  Humor,  and  Shakspeare. 

V. 
The  DuKe. 

The  Duke  is  treated  without  any  disposition  to  ac- 
centuate the  ludicrous  aspect  of  his  character  and  for- 
tunes. He  is  among  the  figures  which  suggest  that 
Shakespeare  was  attracted  by  the  methods  of  Jonson. 
Luxurious  emotions  are  the  elements  in  which  he  lives; 
they  run  to  seed  in  him  like  a  ''  Humour."  His  opening 
words,  "  If  music  be  the  food  of  love,  play  on,"  incisively 
denote  him.  His  love  is  not  a  master  who  subdues  all  his 
faculties  and  energies  to  its  service,  but  an  exquisite 
companion  whom  he  dotes  on  and  dallies  with.  He  has 
no  doubt  a  choice  and  graceful  mind,  and  this  saves  him 
from  ridicule,  though  hardly  from  contempt;  but  it 
serves  rather  to  extract  and  formulate  the  finest  essence 
of  each  passing  moment  than  to  draw  obvious  practical 
conclusions  from  facts.  Hence  the  Clown — no  inapt  ob- 
server— admirably  prescribes  for  him  a  doublet  of 
changeable  taffeta,  "  for  thy  mind  is  a  very  opal " ;  his 
speech  flushes  with  the  warmth  and  brilliance  of  each 
passing  mood.  He  is  sick  of  self-love,  and  his  persistent 
courtship  of  Olivia  rests  upon  a  fatuous  faith  in  his  own 
prevailing  fascination;  but  his  egoism  is  amiable  and 
effusive,  and  he  enters  easily  into  tender  relations  with 
his  subordinates.  Apolonius,  in  Rich's  tale,  has  no  kind- 
ness for  his  serving-man;  but  the  charm  of  Cesario  has 
conquered  the  sensitive  Duke  long  before  the  climax, 
and  the  discovery  of  his  sex  transforms  it  without  effort 
into  love.  This  change  might  seem  to  involve  a  modifi- 

14 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Comments 

cation  of  the  climax  of  Rich's  story,  where  Apolonius 
vows  his  man's  death  to  avenge  his  lady's  honour  (Haz- 
litt's  Shakespeare's  Library,  i.  408).  In  Shakespeare's 
hands,  however,  the  incident  adds  a  piquant  trait  to  the 
Duke's  character.  His  tenderness  for  the  lad  he  dooms 
converts  the  act  into  a  sacrifice,  and  invests  it  with  a 
tragic  significance  full  of  relish  to  his  artistic  sense. 

HERFORD:  The  Eversley  Shakespeare. 

VI. 
Olivia. 

The  Countess  Olivia  forms  a  pendant  to  the  Duke ;  she, 
like  him,  is  full  of  yearning  melancholy.  With  an  osten- 
tatious exaggeration  of  sisterly  love,  she  has  vowed  to 
pass  seven  whole  years  veiled  like  a  nun,  consecrating  her 
whole  life  to  sorrow  for  her  dead  brother.  Yet  we  find 
in  her  speeches  no  trace  of  this  devouring  sorrow;  she 
jests  with  her  household,  and  rules  it  ably  and  well,  until, 
at  the  first  sight  of  the  disguised  Viola,  she  flames  out 
into  passion,  and,  careless  of  the  traditional  reserve  of 
her  sex,  takes  the  most  daring  steps  to  win  the  supposed 
youth.  She  is  conceived  as  an  unbalanced  character, 
who  passes  at  a  bound  from  exaggerated  hatred  for  all 
worldly  things  to  total  forgetfulness  of  her  never-to-be- 
forgotten  sorrow.  Yet  she  is  not  comic  like  Phebe ;  for 
Shakespeare  has  indicated  that  it  is  the  Sebastian  type, 
foreshadowed  in  the  disguised  Viola,  which  is  irresistible 
to  her;  and  Sebastian,  we  see,  at  once  requites  the  love 
which  his  sister  had  to  reject.  Her  utterance  of  her 
passion,  moreover,  is  always  poetically  beautiful. 

Yet  while  she  is  sighing  in  vain  for  Viola,  she  neces- 
sarily appears  as  though  seized  with  a  mild  erotic  mad- 
ness, similar  to  that  of  the  Duke :  and  the  folly  of  each 
is  parodied  in  a  witty  and  delightful  fashion  by  Mal- 
volio's  entirely  ludicrous  love  for  his  mistress,  and  vain 

15 


Comments  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

confidence  that  she  returns  it.     Olivia  feels  and  says  this 
herself,  where  she  exclaims  (iii.  4)— 

"  Go  call  him  hither. — I  am  as  mad  as  he 
If  sad  and  merry  madness  equal  be." 

BRANDES:  William  Shakespeare. 

VII. 
Sir  Toby  Belch  and  Sir  Andrew  AguecheeK. 

Of  Sir  Toby  himself — that  most  whimsical,  madcap, 
trolicsome  old  toper,  so  full  of  antics  and  fond  of  sprees, 
with  a  plentiful  stock  of  wit  and  an  equal  lack  of  money 
to  keep  it  in  motion — it  is  enough  to  say,  with  one  of  the 
best  of  Shakespearian  critics,  that  "  he  certainly  comes 
out  of  the  same  associations  where  the  Poet  saw  Falstaff 
hold  his  revels  " ;  and  that  though  "  not  Sir  John,  nor  a 
fainter  sketch  of  him,  yet  he  has  an  odd  sort  of  a  family 
likeness  to  him."  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek,  the  aspiring, 
lackadaisical,  self-satisfied  echo  and  sequel  of  Sir  Toby, 
fitly  serves  the  double  purpose  of  butt  and  foil  to  the 
latter,  at  once  drawing  him  out  and  setting  him  off. 
Ludicrously  proud  of  the  most  petty  childish  irregulari- 
ties, which,  however,  his  natural  fatuity  keeps  him  from 
acting,  and  barely  suffers  him  to  affect,  on  this  point  he 
reminds  us  of  that  impressive  imbecility,  Abraham  Slen- 
der ;  yet  not  in  such  sort  as  to  encroach  at  all  upon  Slen- 
der's  province.  There  can  scarce  be  found  a  richer  piece 
of  diversion  than  Sir  Toby's  practice  in  dandling  him  out 
of  his  money,  and  paying  him  off  with  the  odd  hope  of 
gaining  Olivia's  hand.  And  the  funniest  of  it  is,  that 
while  Sir  Toby  thoroughly  understands  him,  he  has  not 
himself  the  slightest  suspicion  what  he  is,  being  as  con- 
fident of  his  own  wit  as  others  are  of  his  want  of  it. 

HUDSON  :  The  Works  of  Shakespeare. 

16 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Comments 

VIII. 

The  Characters  Contrasted. 

Viola  is  in  so  far  the  heroine  of  the  piece,  as  the  whole 
play  originates  with  and  is  kept  in  motion  by  her  and  her 
disguise.  And  yet  her  character  is  given  in  light  touches 
and  delicate  colours,  and  is  composed  of  but  a  few  sim- 
ple elements.  It  consists,  so  to  say,  only  in  the  apparent 
contradiction  between  a  tender,  gentle,  sensitive,  longing 
heart,  which,  being  "  deeply  skilled  in  the  science  of  love," 
retires  in  maidenly  shyness  within  itself,  and  a  bold, 
witty  and  imaginative  mind  that  whispers  to  her  all  kinds 
of  mischievous  ideas,  which  she  involuntarily  follows 
from  her  innate  pleasure  in  romance  and  in  what  is  fan- 
tastic. She  thereby  falls  into  situations  which  cause  her 
anxiety  and  embarrassment,  because,  on  the  other  hand, 
she  has  not  the  courage  or  the  practical  cleverness  pos- 
sessed by  Portia  (in  Tlie  Merchant  of  Venice),  whose 
mind  is  somewhat  akin  to  her  own.  To  solve  harmoni- 
ously this  apparent  contradiction,  which  places  the  two 
elements  of  the  comic — fancy  and  intrigue — in  close 
juxtaposition,  and  to  form  a  true  and  life-like  character 
out  of  these  heterogeneous  elements,  is  a  task  that 
Shakspeare  leaves  to  the  talent  of  the  actors.  In  pieces 
like  this  and  similar  ones,  he  cannot  well  do  otherwise; 
he  has  to  content  himself  with  giving  mere  hints  of  the 
characters,  he  has,  so  to  say,  but  to  touch  the  light  pol- 
len of  the  characterisation;  a  deeper  development  and 
deeper  motives  would  obstruct  and  retard  the  rapid, 
easy,  graceful  movement  of  the  act;~n. 

The  other  characters,  the  musical  and  dreamy  Duke, 
who  suns  himself  in  his  own  love,  and  spends  his  time 
in  brooding  over  his  own  sorrows; — Olivia,  in  her  girl- 
ish self-will,  hard  to  please  yet  so  easy  to  win  over,  so 
serious,  strict,  and  yet  so  graceful,  who  is  so  cold,  so 
shy,  so  virtuously  reserved  before  she  is  in  love,  and  so 
inconsiderate  in  her  desires,  so  devoted  after  her  love  is 

17 


Comments  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

aroused  by  contradiction,  and  has  burst  forth  into  a 
bright  flame; — Antonio,  with  his  fantastic  friendship  for 
Sebastian,  and  Sebastian  with  his  healthy,  vigorous, 
youthful  nature,  taking  with  one  snatch  that  which  the 
Duke  has  in  vain  endeavoured  to  obtain  by  entreaties, 
lamentations  and  sighs; — the  roguish,  ingenious  Maria, 
and  her  clever  helper's  help  Fabian — all  these  characters 
are  sketched  in  such  fine  outlines,  the  transparent  col- 
ours and  delicate  lights  and  shades  of  which  are  so  har- 
moniously blended  with  one  another  that,  only  in  this 
manner,  and  in  no  other,  could  they  be  the  agents  of 
such  a  light,  airy,  hazy  and  yet  deeply  significant  com- 
position. The  most  carefully  worked  out  contrast  is  that 
between  the  Fool  by  profession  and  the  involuntary 
fools,  Malvolio,  Sir  Andrew,  and  Sir  Toby.  While  the 
latter,  in  their  own  conceit  and  foolishness,  unconsciously 
draw  the  cap  and  bells  over  their  own  ears,  the  former,  in 
his  self-adopted  mental  garb  of  motley  colours,  moves 
with  inimitable  adroitness,  and  pins  the  lappets  of  his  wit 
to  the  back  of  all  the  other  characters.  The  meaning  of 
the  poem  is,  so  to  say,  centred  in  him.  He  alone,  in  full 
consciousness,  contemplates  life  as  a  merry  Twelfth 
Night,  in  which  every  one  has,  in  fact,  only  to  play  his 
allotted  part  to  the  greatest  possible  amusement  of  himself 
and  others. 

ULRICI  :  Shakspeare's  Dramatic  Art. 

IX. 

Charms  of  this  Comedy. 

Of  all  Shakespeare's  comedies,  perhaps  Tzvelfth  Night 
is  the  most  richly  woven  with  various  hues  of  love,  seri- 
ous and  mock-heroic.  The  amorous  threads  take 
warmer  shifting  colours  from  their  neighbourhood  to 
the  unmitigated  remorseless  merry-making  of  the  har- 
um-scarum old  wag  Sir  Toby  and  his  sparkling  captain 

18 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Comments 

in  mischief,  the  "  most  excellent  devil  of  wit,"  Maria. 
Beside  their  loud  conviviality  and  pitiless  fun  the  lan- 
guishing sentiment  of  the  cultivated  love-lorn  Duke 
stands  out  seven  times  refined,  and  goes  with  exquisite 
touch  to  the  innermost  sensibilities. 

MINTO  :    Characteristics  of  English  Poets. 


Still  one  of  the  comedies  of  Shakspere's  bright,  sweet 
time.  True  that  we  have  to  change  Rosalind's  rippling 
laugh  for  the  drunken  catches  and  bibulous  drollery  of 
Sir  Toby  Belch  and  his  comrade,  and  Touchstone  for 
the  Clown ;  but  the  leading  note  of  the  play  is  fun, 
as  if  Shakspere  had  been  able  to  throw  off  all  thought 
of  melancholy  and  had  devised  Malvolio  to  help  his 
friends  "  fleet  the  time  carelessly,"  as  they  did  in  the 
golden  world.  Still  though,  as  ever  in  the  comedies, 
except  The  Merry  Wives,  there  's  the  shadow  of  death 
and  distress  across  the  sunshine.  Olivia's  father  and 
brother  just  dead,  Viola  and  Sebastian  just  rescued  from 
one  death,  Viola  threatened  with  another,  and  Antonio 
held  a  pirate  and  liable  to  death.  And  still  the  lesson  is, 
as  in  As  You  Like  It,  "Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity"; 
out  of  their  trouble  all  the  lovers  come  into  happiness, 
into  wedlock.  The  play  at  first  sight  is  far  less  striking 
and  interesting  than  Much  Ado  and  As  You  Like  It.  No 
brilliant  Beatrice  or  Benedick  catches  the  eye,  no  sad 
Rosalind  leaping  into  life  and  joyousness  at  the  touch 
of  assured  love. 

The  self-conceited  Malvolio  is  brought  to  the  front, 
the  drunkards  and  Clown  come  next;  none  of  these 
touch  any  heart ;  and  it 's  not  till  we  look  past  them  that 
we  feel  the  beauty  of  the  characters  who  stand  in  half- 
light  behind.  Then  we  become  conscious  of  a  quiet 
harmony  of  colour  and  form  that  makes  a  picture  full 
of  charm,  that  grows  on  you  as  you  study  it,  and  be- 
comes one  of  the  possessions  of  your  life. 

FURNIV ALL  :  The  Leopold  Shakspere. 

19 


Comments  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

This  is  justly  considered  as  one  of  the  most  delightful 
of  Shakespear's  comedies.  It  is  full  of  sweetness  and 
pleasantry.  It  is  perhaps  too  good-natured  for  comedy. 
It  has  little  satire,  and  no  spleen.  It  aims  at  the  lu- 
dicrous rather  than  the  ridiculous.  It  makes  us  laugh  at 
the  follies  of  mankind,  not  despise  them,  and  still  less 
bear  any  ill-will  towards  them.  Shakespear's  comic 
genius  resembles  the  bee  rather  in  its  power  of  extract- 
ing sweets  from  weeds  or  poisons  than  in  leaving  a 
sting  behind  it.  He  gives  the  most  amusing  exaggera- 
tion of  the  prevailing  foibles  of  his  characters,  but  in 
a  way  that  they  themselves,  instead  of  being  offended 
at,  would  almost  join  in  to  humour ;  he  rather  contrives 
opportunities  for  them  to  show  themselves  off  in  the 
happiest  lights,  than  renders  them  contemptible  in  the 
perverse  construction  of  the  wit  or  malice  of  others. 
HAZLITT  :  Characters  of  Shakespear's  Plays. 


Malvolio,  Sir  Toby  Belch,  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek, 
Maria,  and,  above  all,  Viola,  as  they  live  in  the  comedy 
are  Shakespearian  to  the  heart.  The  framework  of  the 
play  is  essentially  serious,  a  beautiful  vein  of  poetic  feel- 
ing runs  through  it,  and,  intermingled  with  these,  the 
most  unforced  and  uproarious  fun.  In  inventiveness  in 
the  comic  type  and  in  freedom  in  handling  it,  as  well 
as  in  grouping  of  diverse  materials  and  fusing  them  into 
a  harmonious  and  captivating  whole,  this  comedy  was 
never  surpassed  by  the  dramatist.  He  parted  with  the 
muse  of  comedy  at  the  very  moment  when  he  had  mas- 
tered the  art  of  touching  the  weaknesses,  follies,  and 
minor  sins  of  men  with  a  touch  which  was  keen  with 
the  wisdom  of  a  great  knowledge  of  the  world,  and 
gentle  with  the  kindness  of  one  who  loved  his  kind  for 
what  they  had  lost  rather  than  for  what  they  had  won. 
MABIE  :  "William  Shakespeare  :  Poet,  Dramatist,  and  Man. 


20 


Twelfth  Night  or  What  You  Will 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE. 

ORSINO,  Duke  of  Illyria. 

SEBASTIAN,  brother  to  Viola. 

ANTONIO,  a  sea  captain,  friend  to  Sebastian. 

A  Sea  Captain,  friend  to  Viola. 

VALENTINE,  )  ,. 

P  T  J-  lentlemen  attending  on  the  Duke. 

SIR  TOBY  BELCH,  uncle  to  Olivia. 
SIR  ANDREW  AGUECHEEK. 
MALVOLIO,  steward  to  Olivia. 

FABIAN,  i  servants  to  Olivia 

FESTE,  a  clown,  \ 

OLIVIA. 

VIOLA. 

MARIA,  Olivia's  •woman. 

Lords,  Priests,  Sailors,  Officers,  Musicians,  and  other  Attendants. 
SCENE:  A  city  in  Illyria,  and  the  sea  coast  near  it. 


22 


Twelfth   Night; 
Or.  What  You  Will. 

ACT  FIRST. 
Scene  I. 

An  apartment  in  the  Duke's  palace. 
Enter  Duke,  Curio,  and  other  Lords ;  Musicians  attending. 

Duke.  If  music  be  the  food  of  love,  play  on ; 
Give  me  excess  oi  it,  that,  surfeiting, 
The  appetite  may  sicken,  and  so  die. 
That  strain  again !   it  had  a  dying  fall : 
O,  it  came  o'er  my  ear  like  the  sweet  sound. 
That  breathes  upon  a  bank  of  violets, 
Stealing  and  giving  odour !     Enough ;  no  more : 
'Tis  not  so  sweet  now  as  it  was  before. 
O  spirit  of  love,  how  quick  and  fresh  art  thou ! 
That,  notwithstanding  thy  capacity  10 

Receiveth  as  the  sea,  nought  enters  there, 
Of  what  validity  and  pitch  soe'er, 
But  falls  into  abatement  and  low  price, 
Even  in  a  minute !   so  full  of  shapes  is  fancy, 
That  it  alone  is  high  fantastical. 

Cur.  Will  you  go  hunt,  my  lord  ? 

Duke.  What,  Curio? 

Cur.  The  hart. 

Duke.  Why,  so  I  do,  the  noblest  that  I  have : 
O,  when  mine  eyes  did  see  Olivia  first, 

23 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Methought  she  purged  the  air  of  pestilence !  20 

That  instant  was  I  turn'd  into  a  hart ; 
And  my  desires,  like  fell  and  cruel  hounds, 
E'er  since  pursue  me. 

Enter  Valentine. 

How  now?  what  news  from  her? 

Vol.  So  please  my  lord,  I  might  not  be  admitted ; 
But  from  her  handmaid  do  return  this  answer ; 
The  element  itself,  till  seven  years'  heat, 
Shall  not  behold  her  face  at  ample  view ; 
But,  like  a  cloistress,  she  will  veiled  walk 
And  water  once  a  day  her  chamber  round 
With  eye-offending  brine :  all  this  to  season  30 

A  brother's  dead  love,  which  she  would  keep  fresh 
And  lasting  in  her  sad  remembrance. 

Duke.  O,  she  that  hath  a  heart  of  that  fine  frame 
To  pay  this  debt  of"  love  but  to  a  brother, 
How  will  she  love,  when  the  rich  golden  shaft 
Hath  kill'd  the  flock  of  all  affections  else 
That  live  in  her ;   when  liver,  brain  and  heart, 
These  sovereign  thrones,  are  all  supplied,  and  fill'd 
Her  sweet  perfections  with  one  self  king! 
Away  before  me  to  sweet  beds  of  flowers :  40 

Love-thoughts  lie  rich  when  canopied  with  bowers. 

[Exeunt. 
Scene  II. 

The  sea-coast. 
Enter  Viola,  a  Captain,  and  Sailors. 

Vio.  What  country,  friends,  is  this  ? 
Cap.  This  is  Illyria,  lady. 

24 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  I.  Sc.  il. 

Vio.  And  what  should  I  do  in  Illyria  ? 
My  brother  he  is  in  Elysium. 
Perchance  he  is  not  drown'd;  what  think  you,  sailors? 

Cap.  It  is  perchance  that  you  yourself  were  saved. 

Vio.  O  my  poor  brother !   and  so  perchance  may  he  be. 

Cap.  True,  madam :   and,  to  comfort  you  with  chance, 
Assure  yourself,  after  our  ship  did  split, 
When  you  and  those  poor  number  saved  with  you    10 
Hung  on  our  driving  boat,  I  saw  your  brother, 
Most  provident  in  peril,  bind  himself, 
Courage  and  hope  both  teaching  him  the  practice, 
To  a  strong  mast  that  lived  upon  the  sea ; 
Where,  like  Arion  on  the  dolphin's  back, 
I  saw  him  hold  acquaintance  with  the  waves 
So  long  as  I  could  see. 

Vio.  For  saying  so,  there  's  gold : 

Mine  own  escape  unfoldeth  to  my  hope, 

Whereto  thy  speech  serves  for  authority,  20 

The  like  of  him.     Know'st  thou  this  country? 

Cap.  Ay,  madam,  well ;  for  I  was  bred  and  born 
Not  three  hours'  travel  from  this  very  place. 

Vio.  Who  governs  here? 

Cap.  A  noble  Duke,  in  nature  as  in  name. 

Vio.  What  is  his  name  ? 

Cap.  Orsino. 

Vio.  Orsino ! .  I  have  heard  my  father  name  him : 
He  was  a  bachelor  then. 

Cap.  And  so  is  now,  or  was  so  very  late ;  3° 

For  but  a  month  ago  I  went  from  hence, 
And  then  'twas  fresh  in  murmur, — as,  you  know, 
What  great  ones  do  the  less  will  prattle  of, — 
That  he  did  seek  the  love  of  fair  Olivia. 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT ; 

Vio.  What's  she? 

Cap.  A  virtuous  maid,  the  daughter  of  a  count 

That  died  some  twelvemonth  since ;  then  leaving  her 
In  the  protection  of  his  son,  her  brother, 
Who  shortly  also  died :  for  whose  dear  love, 
They  say,  she  hath  abjured  the  company  40 

And  sight  of  men. 

Vio.  O  that  I  served  that  lady, 

And  might  not  be  delivered  to  the  world, 
Till  I  had  made  mine  own  occasion  mellow, 
What  my  estate  is ! 

Cap.  That  were  hard  to  compass ; 

Because  she  will  admit  no  kind  of  suit, 
No,  not  the  Duke's. 

Vio.  There  is  a  fair  behaviour  in  thee,  captain; 
And  though  that  nature  with  a  beauteous  wall 
Doth  oft  close  in  pollution,  yet  of  thee 
I  will  believe  thou  hast  a  mind  that  suits  50 

WTith  this  thy  fair  and  outward  character. 
I  prithee,  and  I  '11  pay  thee  bounteously, 
Conceal  me  what  I  am,  and  be  my  aid 
For  such  disguise  as  haply  shall  become 
The  form  of  my  intent.     I  '11  serve  this  Duke : 
Thou  shalt  present  me  as  an  eunuch  to  him : 
It  may  be  worth  thy  pains  ;   for  I  can  sing, 
And  speak  to  him  in  many  sorts  of  music, 
That  will  allow  me  very  worth  his  service. 
What  else  may  hap  to  time  I  will  commit ;  60 

Only  shape  thou  thy  silence  to  my  wit. 

Cap.  Be  you  his  eunuch,  and  your  mute  I  '11  be : 

When  my  tongue  blabs,  then  let  mine  eyes  not  see. 

Vio.  I  thank  thee :  lead  me  on.  [Exeunt. 

26 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 

Scene  III. 

Olivia's  house. 
Enter  Sir  Toby  Belch  and  Maria. 

Sir  To.  What  a  plague  means  my  niece,  to  take  the 

death  of  her  brother  thus  ?     I  am  sure  care  's  an 

enemy  to  life. 
Mar.  By  my  troth,   Sir   Toby,   you   must   come   in 

earlier  o'  nights :     your  cousin,  my  lady,  takes 

great  exceptions  to  your  ill  hours. 
Sir  To.  Why,  let  her  except,  before  excepted. 
Mar.  Ay,  but  you  must  confine  yourself  within  the 

modest  limits  of  order. 
Sir  To.  Confine !     I  '11  confine  myself  no  finer  than  I     10 

am :  these  clothes  are  good  enough  to  drink  in ; 

and  so  be  these  boots  too :    an  they  be  not,  let 

them  hang  themselves  in  their  own  straps. 
Mar.  That  quaffing  and  drinking  will  undo  you :    I 

heard  my  lady  talk  of  it  yesterday ;    and  of  a 

foolish  knight  that  you  brought  in  one  night  here 

to  be  her  wooer. 

Sir  To.  Who,  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek? 
Mar.  Ay,  he. 

Sir  To.  He  's  as  tall  a  man  as  any  's  in  Illyria.  20 

Mar.  What's  that  to  the  purpose  ? 
Sir  To.  Why,  he  has  three  thousand  ducats  a  year. 
Mar.  Ay,   but   he  '11   have  but   a   year   in   all   these 

ducats :  he  's  a  very  fool  and  a  prodigal. 
Sir  To.  Fie,  that  you  '11  say  so !  he  plays  o'  the  viol- 

de-gamboys,  and  speaks  three  or  four  languages 

word  for  word  without  book,  and.  hath  all  the 

good  gifts  of  nature. 

27 


Act  I,  Sc.  iii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Mar.  He  hath  indeed,  almost  natural :    for  besides 

that  he  's  a  fool,  he  's  a  great  quarreller ;    and     30 
but  that  he  hath  the  gift  of  a  coward  to  allay  the 
gust  he  hath  in  quarrelling,  'tis  thought  among 
the  prudent  he  would  quickly  have  the  gift  of  a 
grave. 

Sir  To.  By  this  hand,  they  are  scoundrels  and  sub- 
stractors  that  say  so  of  him.     Who  are  they? 

Mar.  They  that  add,  moreover,  he  's  drunk  nightly 
in  your  company. 

Sir  To.  With   drinking  healths   to  my   niece :     I  '11 

drink  to  her  as  long  as  there  is  a  passage  in  my  40 
throat  and  drink  in  Illyria :  he  's  a  coward  and  a 
coystrill  that  will  not  drink  to  my  niece  till  his 
brains  turn  o'  the  toe  like  a  parish-top.  What, 
wench !  Castiliano  vulgo ;  for  here  comes  Sir 
Andrew  Agueface. 

Enter  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek. 

Sir  And.  Sir  Toby  Belch  !  how  now,  Sir  Toby  Belch ! 
Sir  To.  Sweet  Sir  Andrew  ! 
Sir  And.  Bless  you,  fair  shrew. 
Mar.  And  you  too,  sir. 

Sir  To.  Accost,  Sir  Andrew,  accost.  50 

Sir  And.  What's  that? 
Sir  To.  My  niece's  chambermaid. 
Sir  And.  Good  Mistress  Accost,  I  desire  better  ac- 
quaintance. 

Mar.  My  name  is  Mary,  sir. 
Sir  And.  Good  Mistress  Mary  Accost, — 
Sir  To.  You  mistake,  knight :   '  accost '  is  front  her, 
board  her,  woo  her,  assail  her. 

28 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  I.  Sc<  iii. 

Sir  And.  By  my  troth,  I  would  not  undertake  her  in 

this  company.     Is  that  the  meaning  of  '  accost '  ?     60 
Mar.  Fare  you  well,  gentlemen. 
Sir  To.  An  thou  let  part  so,  Sir  Andrew,  would  thou 

mightst  never  draw  sword  again. 
Sir  And.  An  you  part  so,  mistress,  I  would  I  might 

never   draw   sword  again.     Fair   lady,    do   you 

think  you  have  fools  in  hand  ? 
Mar.  Sir,  I  have  not  you  by  the  hand. 
Sir  And.  Marry,  but  you  shall  have ;   and  here  's  my 

hand. 
Mar.  Now,  sir,  '  thought  is  free  ' :   I  pray  you,  bring     70 

your  hand  to  the  buttery-bar  and  let  it  drink. 
Sir  And.  Wherefore,     sweet-heart  ?       what 's     your 

metaphor  ? 
Mar.  It 's  dry,  sir. 
Sir  And.  Why,  I  think  so :  I  am  not  such  an  ass  but  I 

can  keep  my  hand  dry.     But  what 's  your  jest? 
Mar.  A  dry  jest,  sir. 
Sir  And.  Are  you  full  of  them? 
Mar.  Ay,    sir,    I   have   them   at   my  fingers'   ends: 

marry,  now  I  let  go  your  hand,  I  am  barren.     [Exit. 
Sir  To.  O  knight,  thou  lackest  a  cup  of  canary :  when     81 

did  I  see  thee  so  put  down  ? 
Sir  And.  Never  in  your  life,  I  think ;   unless  you  see 

canary  put  me  down.     Methinks   sometimes   I 

have  no  more  wit  than  a  Christian  or  an  ordinary 

man  has :   but  I  am  a  great  eater  of  beef  and  I 

believe  that  does  harm  to  my  wit. 
Sir  To.  No  question. 
Sir  And.  An  I  thought  that,  I 'Id  forswear  it.     I  '11 

ride  home  to-morrow  ,   Sir  Toby.  90 

29 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Sir  To.  Pourquoi,  my  dear  knight  ? 

Sir  And.  What  is  'pourquoi'?  do  or  not  do?  I 

would  I  had  bestowed  that  time  in  the  tongues 

that  I  have  in  fencing,  dancing  and  bear-baiting : 

O,  had  I  but  followed  the  arts ! 
Sir  To.  Then  hadst  thou  had  an  excellent  head  of 

hair. 

Sir  And.  Why,  would  that  have  mended  my  hair? 
Sir  To.  Past  question  ;   for  thou  seest  it  will  not  curl 

by  nature.  100 

Sir  And.  But   it   becomes   me   well   enough,    does 't 

not? 
Sir  To.  Excellent ;    it  hangs  like  flax  on  a  distaff ; 

and  I  hope  to  see  a  housewife  take  thee  between 

her  legs  and  spin  it  off. 
Sir  And.  Faith,    I'll    home   to-morrow,    Sir    Toby: 

your  niece  will  not  be  seen ;    or  if  she  be,  it 's 

four  to  one  she  '11  none  of  me :  the  count  himself 

here  hard  by  woos  her. 
Sir  To.  She'll  none  o'  the  count:   she'll  not  match  no 

above  her  degree,  neither  in  estate,  years,  nor 

wit ;    I  have  heard  her  swear  't.     Tut,  there  's 

life  in  't,  man. 
Sir  And.  I  '11  stay  a  month  longer.     I  am  a  fellow 

o'  the  strangest  mind  i'  the  world ;    I  delight  in 

masques  and  revels  sometimes  altogether. 
Sir  To.  Art  thou  good  at  these  kickshawses,  knight  ? 
Sir  And.  As  any  man  in  Illyria,  whatsoever  he  be, 

under  the  degree  of  my  betters ;   and  yet  I  will 

not  compare  with  an  old  man.  120 

Sir  To.  What  is  thy  excellence  in  a  galliard,  knight  ? 
Sir  And.  Faith,  I  can  cut  a  caper. 

30 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  I.  Sc.  iv 

Sir  To.  And  I  can  cut  the  mutton  to  't. 

Sir  And.  And  I  think  I  have  the  back-trick  simply  as 
strong  as  any  man  in  Illyria. 

Sir  To.  Wherefore  are  these  things  hid  ?  wherefore 
have  these  gifts  a  curtain  before  'em?  are  they 
like  to  take  dust,  like  Mistress  Mall's  picture? 
why  dost  thou  not  go  to  church  in  a  galliard 
and  come  home  in  a  coranto?  My  very  walk  130 
should  be  a  jig;  I  would  not  so  much  as  make 
water  but  in  a  sink-a-pace.  What  dost  thou 
mean  ?  Is  it  a  world  to  hide  virtues  in  ?  I  did 
think,  by  the  excellent  constitution  of  thy  leg,  it 
was  formed  under  the  star  of  a  galliard. 

Sir  And.  Ay,  'tis  strong,  and  it  does  indifferent  well 
in  a  flame-coloured  stock.  Shall  we  set  about 
some  revels? 

Sir  To.  What  shall  we  do  else  ?    were  we  not  born 

under  Taurus  ?  140 

Sir  And.  Taurus !     That 's  sides  and  heart. 

Sir  To.  No,  sir ;  it  is  legs  and  thighs.  Let  me  see 
thee  caper :  ha !  higher :  ha,  ha !  excellent ! 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  IV. 

The  Duke's  palace. 
Enter  Valentine,  and  Viola  in  man's  attire. 

Val.  If  the  Duke  continue  these  favours  towards  you, 
Cesario,  you  are  like  to  be  much  advanced :  he 
hath  known  you  but  three  days,  and  already  you 
are  no  stranger. 

Vio.  You  either  fear  his  humour  or  my  negligence, 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

that  you  call  in  question  the  continuance  of  his 
love :  is  he  inconstant,  sir,  in  his  favours  ? 

Val.  No,  believe  me. 

Vio.  I  thank  you.     Here  comes  the  count. 

Enter  Duke,  Curio,  and  Attendants. 

Duke.  Who  saw  Cesario,  ho?  10 

Vio.  On  your  attendance,  my  lord ;  here. 

Duke.  Stand  you  a  while  aloof.     Cesario, 

Thou  know'st  no  less  but  all ;  I  have  unclasp'd 
To  thee  the  book  even  of  my  secret  soul : 
Therefore,  good  youth,  address  thy  gait  unto  her ; 
Be  not  denied  access,  stand  at  her  doors, 
And  tell  them,  there  thy  fixed  foot  shall  grow 
Till  thou  h?ve  audience. 

Vio.  Sure,  my  noble  lord, 

If  she  be  so  abandon'd  to  her  sorrow 
As  it  is  spoke,  she  never  will  admit  me.  20 

Duke.  Be  clamorous  and  leap  all  civil  bounds 
Rather  than  make  unprofited  return. 

Vio.  Say  I  do  speak  with  her,  my  lord,  what  then  ? 

Duke.  O,  then  unfold  the  passion  of  my  love, 

Surprise  her  with  discourse  of  my  dear  faith : 
It  shall  become  thee  well  to  act  my  woes ; 
She  will  attend  it  better  in  thy  youth 
Than  in  a  nuncio's  of  more  grave  aspect. 

Vio.  I  think  not  so,  my  lord. 

Duke.  Dear  lad,  believe  it ; 

For  they  shall  yet  belie  thy  happy  years,  30 

That  say  thou  art  a  man  :  Diana's  lip 
Is  not  more  smooth  and  rubious  ;  thy  small  pipe 
Is  as  the  maiden's  organ,  shrill  and  sound ; 

32 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  I.  Sc.  v. 

And  all  is  semblative  a  woman's  part. 
I  know  thy  constellation  is  right  apt 
For  this  affair.     Some  four  or  five  attend  him ; 
All,  if  you  will ;   for  I  myself  am  best 
When  least  in  company.     Prosper  well  in  this, 
And  thou  shalt  live  as  freely  as  thy  lord, 
To  call  his  fortunes  thine. 

Vio.  I  '11  do  my  best  40 

To  woo  your  lady :   [Aside]   yet,  a  barful  strife  ! 
Whoe'er  I  woo,  myself  would  be  his  wife.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  V. 

Olivia's  house. 
Enter  Maria  and  Clown. 

Mar.  Nay,  either  tell  me  where  thou  hast  been,  or 

I  will  not  open  my  lips  so  wide  as  a  bristle  may 

enter  in  way  of  thy  excuse :   my  lady  will  hang 

thee  for  thy  absence. 
Clo.  Let  her  hang  me :  he  that  is  well  hanged  in  this 

world  needs  to  fear  no  colours. 
Mar.  Make  that  good. 
Clo.  He  shall  see  none  to  fear. 
Mar.  A  good  lenten  answer  :•  I  can  tell  thee  where 

that  saying  was  born,  of  '  I  fear  no  colours.'  10 

Clo.  Where,  good  Mistress  Mary? 
Mar.  In  the  wars :  and  that  may  you  be  bold  to  say 

in  your  foolery. 
Clo.  Well,  God  give  them  wisdom  that  have  it ;   and 

those  that  are  fools,  let  them  use  their  talents. 
Mar.  Yet  you  will  be  hanged  for  being  so  long  ab- 

33 


Act  I.  Sc.  v.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

sent ;  or,  to  be  turned  away,  is  not  that  as  good 
as  a  hanging  to  you  ? 

Clo.  Many  a  good  hanging  prevents  a  bad  marriage ;     20 
and,  for  turning  away,  let  summer  bear  it  out. 

Mar.  You  are  resolute,  then  ? 

Clo.  Not  so,  neither ;  but  I  am  resolved  on  two  points. 

Mar.  That  if  one  break,  the  other  will  hold ;  or,  if 
both  break,  your  gaskins  fall. 

Clo.  Apt,  in  good  faith;  very  apt.  Well,  go  thy 
way;  if  Sir  Toby  would  leave  drinking,  thou 
wert  as  witty  a  piece  of  Eve's  flesh  as  any  in  Illyria. 

Mar.  Peace,    you    rogue,    no   more    o'    that.     Here 

comes  my  lady:   make  your  excuse  wisely,  you     30 
were  best.  [Exit. 

Clo.  Wit,  an  't  be  thy  will,  put  me  into  good  fooling ! 
Those  wits,  that  think  they  have  thee,  do  very 
oft  prove  fools ;  and  I,  that  am  sure  I  lack  thee, 
may  pass  for  a  wise  man  ;  for  what  says  Quina- 
palus?  '  Better  a  witty  fool  than  a  foolish  wit.' 

Enter  Lady  Olivia  with  Malvolio. 

God  bless  thee,  lady ! 

OIL  Take  the  fool  away. 

Clo.  Do  you  not  hear,  fellows  ?     Take  away  the  lady. 

OIL  Go  to,  you  're  a  dry  fool ;   I  '11  no  more  of  you  :     40 
besides,  you  grow  dishonest. 

Clo.  Two  faults,  madonna,  that  drink  and  good 
counsel  will  amend :  for  give  the  dry  fool  drink, 
then  is  the  fool  not  dry :  bid  the  dishonest  man 
mend  himself ;  if  he  mend,  he  is  no  longer  dis- 
honest ;  if  he  cannot,  let  the  botcher  mend  him. 
Any  thing  that 's  mended  is  but  patched :  virtue 

34 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  I.  Sc.  v. 

that  transgresses  is  but  patched  with  sin;  and 
sin  that  amends  is  but  patched  with  virtue.  If 
that  this  simple  syllogism  will  serve,  so;  if  it  50 
will  not,  what  remedy?  As  there  is  no  true 
cuckold  but  calamity,  so  beauty 's  a  flower. 
The  lady  bade  take  away  the  fool;  therefore, 
I  say  again,  take  her  away. 

OH.  Sir,  I  bade  them  take  away  you. 

Clo.  Misprision  in  the  highest  degree !  Lady,  cucul- 
lus  non  facit  monachum ;  that 's  as  much  to  say 
as  I  wear  not  motley  in  my  brain.  Good  ma- 
donna, give  me  leave  to  prove  you  a  fool. 

Oli.  Can  you  do  it?  60 

Clo.  Dexteriously,  good  madonna. 

Oli.  Make  your  proof. 

Clo.  I  must  catechize  you  for  it,  madonna :  good  my 
mouse  of  virtue,  answer  me. 

Oli.  Well,  sir,  for  want  of  other  idleness,  I  '11  bide 
your  proof. 

Clo.  Good  madonna,  why  mournest  thou  ? 

Oli.  Good  fool,  for  my  brother's  death. 

Clo.  I  think  his  soul  is  in  hell,  madonna. 

Oli.  I  know  his  soul  is  in  heaven,  fool.  70 

Clo.  The  more  fool,  madonna,  to  mourn  for  your 
brother's  soul  being  in  heaven.  Take  away  the 
fool,  gentlemen. 

Oli.  What  think  you  of  this  fool,  Malvolio?  doth 
he  not  mend? 

Mai.  Yes,  and  shall  do  till  the  pangs  of  death  shake 
him:  infirmity,  that  decays  the  wise,  doth  ever 
make  the  better  fool. 

do.  God  send  you,  sir,  a  speedy  infirmity,  for  the 

35 


Act  I.  Sc.  v.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

better  increasing  your  folly!     Sir  Toby  will  be     80 
sworn  that  I  am  no  fox ;   but  he  will  not  pass 
his  word  for  two  pence  that  you  are  no  fool. 

Oli.  How  say  you  to  that,  Malvolio  ? 

Mai.  I  marvel  your  ladyship  takes  delight  in  such  a 
barren  rascal :  I  saw  him  put  down  the  other 
day  with  an  ordinary  fool  that  has  no  more  brain 
than  a  stone.  Look  you  now,  he  's  out  of  his 
guard  already;  unless  you  laugh  and  minister 
occasion  to  him,  he  is  gagged.  I  protest,  I  take 
these  wise  men,  that  crow  so  at  these  set  kind  90 
of  fools,  no  better  than  the  fools'  zanies. 

Oli.  O,  you  are  sick  of  self-love,  Malvolio,  and  taste 
with  a  distempered  appetite.  To  be  generous, 
guiltless  and  of  free  disposition,  is  to  take  those 
things  for  bird-bolts  that  you  deem  cannon-bul- 
lets :  there  is  no  slander  in  an  allowed  fool, 
though  he  do  nothing  but  rail ;  nor  no  railing  in 
a  known  discreet  man,  though  he  do  nothing  but 
reprove. 

Clo.  Now    Mercury   endue   thee   with    leasing,    for  100 
thou  speakest  well  of  fools! 

Re-enter  Maria. 

Mar.  Madam,  there  is  at  the  gate  a  young  gentle- 
man much  desires  to  speak  with  you. 

Oli.  From  the  Count  Orsino,  is  it? 

Mar.  I  know  not,  madam:  'tis  a  fair  young  man, 
and  well  attended. 

Oli.  Who  of  my  people  hold  him  in  delay  ? 

Mar.  Sir  Toby,  madam,  your  kinsman. 

Oli.  Fetch  him  off,  I  pray  you ;  he  speaks  nothing 

36 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  I.  Sc.  v. 

but  madman:  fie  on  him!  [Exit  Maria.}  Go  no 
you,  Malvolio :  if  it  be  a  suit  from  the  count,  I 
am  sick,  or  not  at  home ;  what  you  will,  to  dis- 
miss it.  [Exit  Malvolio.}  Now  you  see,  sir, 
how  your  fooling  grows  old,  and  people  dislike  it. 
Clo.  Thou  hast  spoke  for  us,  madonna,  as  if  thy 
eldest  son  should  be  a  fool;  whose  skull  Jove 
cram  with  brains !  for, — here  he  comes, — one  of 
thy  kin  has  a  most  weak  pia  mater. 

Enter  Sir  Toby. 

OIL  By  mine  honour,  half  drunk.     What  is  he  at 

the  gate,  cousin?  120 

Sir  To.  A  gentleman. 
Oli.  A  gentleman  !   what  gentleman  ? 
Sir  To.  'Tis  a  gentleman  here — a  plague  o'   these 

pickle-herring!     How  now,  sot! 
Clo.  Good  Sir  Toby ! 
Oli.  Cousin,  cousin,  how  have  you  come  so  early  by 

this  lethargy? 
Sir  To.  Lechery !     I  defy  lechery.     There  's  one  at 

the  gate. 

Oli.  Ay,  marry,  what  is  he?  130 

Sir  To.  Let  him  be  the  devil,  an  he  will,  I  care  not : 

give  me  faith,  say  I.     Well,  it 's  all  one.  [Exit. 

Oli.  What 's  a  drunken  man  like,  fool? 
Clo.  Like  a  drowned  man,  a  fool  and  a  mad  man : 

one  draught  above  heat  makes  him  a  fool ;   the 

second  mads  him ;   and  a  third  drowns  him. 
Oli.  Go  thou  and  seek  the  crowner,  and  let  him  sit 

o'  my  coz  ;  for  he  's  in  the  third  degree  of  drink, 

he  's  drowned :  go  look  after  him. 

37 


Act  I.  Sc.  v.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Clo.  He  is  but  mad  yet,  madonna;  and  the  fool  shall  140 
look  to  the  madman.  [Exit. 

Re-enter  Malvolio. 

Mai.  Madam,  yond  young  fellow  swears  he  will 
speak  with  you.  I  told  him  you  were  sick ;  he 
takes  on  him  to  understand  so  much,  and  there- 
fore comes  to  speak  with  you.  I  told  him  you 
were  asleep ;  he  seems  to  have  a  foreknowledge 
of  that  too,  and  therefore  comes  to  speak  with 
you.  What  is  to  be  said  to  him,  lady  ?  he 's 
fortified  against  any  denial. 

OIL  Tell  him  he  shall  not  speak  with  me.  150 

Mai.  Has  been  told  so;  and  he  says,  he'll  stand  at 
your  door  like  a  sheriff's  post,  and  be  the 
supporter  to  a  bench,  but  he  '11  speak  with 
you. 

OIL  What  kind  o'  man  is  he? 

Mai.  Why,  of  mankind. 

OIL  What  manner  of  man  ? 

Mai.  Of  very  ill  manner :  he  '11  speak  with  you,  will 
you  or  no. 

OIL  Of  what  personage  and  years  is  he?  160 

Mai.  Not  yet  old  enough  for  a  man,  nor  young 
enough  for  a  boy ;  as  a  squash  is  before  'tis  a 
peascod,  or  a  codling  when  'tis  almost  an  apple : 
'tis  with  him  in  standing  water,  between  boy  and 
man.  He  is  very  well-favoured  and  he  speaks 
very  shrewishly ;  one  would  think  his  mother's 
milk  were  scarce  out  of  him. 

OIL  Let  him  approach :  call  in  my  gentlewoman. 

Mai.  Gentlewoman,  my  lady  calls.  [Exit. 

38 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  I.  Sc.  v. 

Re-enter  Maria. 

OH.  Give  me  my  veil :  come,  throw  it  o'er  my  face.      170 
We  '11  once  more  hear  Orsino's  embassy. 

Enter  Viola,  and  Attendants. 

Vio.  The  honourable  lady  of  the  house,  which  is  she  ? 

Oli.  Speak  to  me;  I  shall  answer  for  her.  Your 
will? 

Vio.  Most  radiant,  exquisite  and  unmatchable  beauty, 
— I  pray  you,  tell  me  if  this  be  the  lady  of  the 
house,  for  I  never  saw  her:  I  would  be  loath 
to  cast  away  my  speech,  for  besides  that  it  is 
excellently  well  penned,  I  have  taken  great  pains 
to  con  it.  Good  beauties,  let  me  sustain  no  180 
scorn ;  I  am  very  comptible,  even  to  the  least 
sinister  usage. 

Oli.  Whence  came  you,  sir? 

Vio.  I  can  say  little  more  than  I  have  studied,  and 
that  question  's  out  of  my  part.  Good  gentle 
one,  give  me  modest  assurance  if  you  be  the 
lady  of  the  house,  that  I  may  proceed  in  my 
speech. 

Oli.  Are  you  a  comedian  ? 

Vio.  No,  my  profound  heart:    and  yet,  by  the  very  190 
fangs  of  malice  I  swear,  I  am  not  that  I  play. 
Are  you  the  lady  of  the  house  ? 

Oli.  If  I  do  not  usurp  myself,  I  am. 

Vio.  Most  certain,  if  you  are  she,  you  do  usurp 
yourself;  for  what  is  yours  to  bestow  is  not 
yours  to  reserve.  But  this  is  from  my  com- 
mission :  I  will  on  with  my  speech  in  your 

39 


Act  I.  Sc.  v.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

praise,   and   then   show   you  the  heart   of   my 
message. 

Oli.  Come  to  what  is  important  in  't :   I  forgive  you  200 
the  praise. 

Vio.  Alas,  I  took  great  pains  to  study  it,  and  'tis 
poetical. 

Oli.  It  is  the  more  like  to  be  feigned.  I  pray  you, 
keep  it  in.  I  heard  you  were  saucy  at  my  gates, 
and  allowed  your  approach  rather  to  wonder  at 
you  than  to  hear  you.  If  you  be  not  mad,  be 
gone ;  if  you  have  reason,  be  brief :  'tis  not  that 
time  of  moon  with  me  to  make  one  in  so  skipping 
a  dialogue.  210 

Mar.  Will  you  hoist  sail,  sir  ?  here  lies  your  way. 

Vio.  No,  good  swabber ;  I  am  to  hull  here  a  little 
longer.  Some  mollification  for  your  giant,  sweet 
lady.  Tell  me  your  mind :  I  am  a  messenger. 

Oli.  Sure,  you  have  some  hideous  matter  to  deliver, 
when  the  courtesy  of  it  is  so  fearful.  Speak 
your  office. 

Vio.  It  alone  concerns  your  ear.     I  bring  no  overture 
of  war,  no  taxation  of  homage :  I  hold  the  olive 
in  my  hand;   my  words  are  as  full  of  peace  as  220 
matter. 

Oli.  Yet  you  began  rudely.  What  are  you?  what 
would  you  ? 

Vio.  The  rudeness  that  hath  appeared  in  me  have  I 
learned  from  my  entertainment.  What  I  am, 
and  what  I  would,  are  as  secret  as  maidenhead ; 
to  your  ears,  divinity,  to  any  other's,  profanation. 

Oli.  Give  us  the  place  alone :  we  will  hear  this  di- 
vinity. [Exeunt  Maria,  and  Attendants.] 

40 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  I.  Sc.  v. 

Now,  sir,  what  is  your  text  ?  230 

Vio.  Most  sweet  lady, — 

OIL  A  comfortable  doctrine,  and  much  may  be  said 
of  it.  Where  lies  your  text  ? 

Vio.  In  Orsino's  bosom. 

OIL  In  his  bosom !     In  what  chapter  of  his  bosom  ? 

Vio.  To  answer  by  the  method,  in  the  first  of  his 
heart. 

OIL  O,  I  have  read  it:  it  is  heresy.  Have  you  no 
more  to  say? 

Vio.  Good  madam,  let  me  see  your  face.  240 

OIL  Have  you  any  commission  from  your  lord  to  ne- 
gotiate with  my  face  ?  You  are  now  out  of  your 
text :  but  we  will  draw  the  curtain  and  show 
you  the  picture.  Look  you,  sir,  such  a  one  I 
was  this  present :  is  't  not  well  done  ?  [  Unveiling. 

Vio.  Excellently  done,  if  God  did  all. 

OH.  'Tis  in  grain,  sir ;   'twill  endure  wind  and  weather. 

Vio.  'Tis  beauty  truly  blent,  whose  red  and  white 
Nature's  own  sweet  and  cunning  hand  laid  on : 
Lady,  you  are  the  cruell'st  she  alive,  250 

If  you  will  lead  these  graces  to  the  grave 
And  leave  the  world  no  copy. 

OH.  O,  sir,  I  will  not  be  so  hard-hearted;  I  will 
give  out  divers  schedules  of  my  beauty :  it  shall 
be  inventoried,  and  every  particle  and  utensil 
labelled  to  my  will :  as,  item,  two  lips,  indifferent 
red ;  item,  two  grey  eyes,  with  lids  to  them ; 
item,  one  neck,  one  chin,  and  so  forth.  Were 
you  sent  hither  to  praise  me? 

Vio.  I  see  you  what  you  are,  you  are  too  proud ;         260 
But,  if  you  were  the  devil,  you  are  fair. 

4i 


Act  I.  Sc.  v.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

My  lord  and  master  loves  you :  O,  such  love 

Could  be  but  recompensed,  though  you  were  crown'd 

The  nonpareil  of  beauty ! 

Oli.  How  does  he  love  me  ? 

Vio.  With  adorations,  fertile  tears, 

With  groans  that  thunder  love,  with  sighs  of  fire. 
Oli.  Your  lord  does  know  my  mind ;  I  cannot  love  him  : 

Yet  I  suppose  him  virtuous,  know  him  noble, 

Of  great  estate,  of  fresh  and  stainless  youth ; 

In  voices  well  divulged,  free,  learn'd  and  valiant ;  270 

And  in  dimension  and  the  shape  of  nature 

A  gracious  person  :  but  yet  I  cannot  love  him ; 

He  might  have  took  his  answer  long  ago. 
Vio.  If  I  did  love  you  in  my  master's  flame, 

With  such  a  suffering,  such  a  deadly  life, 

In  your  denial  I  would  find  no  sense ; 

I  would  not  understand  it. 

Oli.  Why,  what  would  you? 

Vio.  Make  me  a  willow  cabin  at  your  gate, 

And  call  upon  my  soul  within  the  house; 

Write  loyal  cantons  of  contemned  love  280 

And  sing  them  loud  even  in  the  dead  of  night ; 

Halloo  your  name  to  the  reverberate  hills, 

And  make  the  babbling  gossip  of  the  air 

Cry  out  '  Olivia ! '     O,  you  should  not  rest 

Between  the  elements  of  air  and  earth, 

But  you  should  pity  me ! 
Oli.  You  might  do  much. 

What  is  your  parentage? 
Vio.  Above  my  fortunes,  yet  my  state  is  well : 

I  am  a  gentleman. 

Oli.  Get  you  to  your  lord ; 

42 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  I.  Sc.  v. 

I  cannot  love  him  :   let  him  send  no  more ;  290 

Unless,  perchance,  you  come  to  me  again, 
To  tell  me  how  he  takes  it.     Fare  you  well : 
I  thank  you  for  your  pains :   spend  this  for  me. 

Vio.  I  am  no  fee'd  post,  lady ;   keep  your  purse : 
My  master,  not  myself,  lacks  recompense. 
Love  make  his  heart  of  flint  that  you  shall  love ; 
And  let  your  fervour,  like  my  master's,  be 
Placed  in  contempt!     Farewell,  fair  cruelty.     [Exit. 

OH.  '  What  is  your  parentage?  ' 

'  Above  my  fortunes,  yet  my  state  is  well :  300 

I  am  a  gentleman.'     I  '11  be  sworn  thou  art ; 

Thy  tongue,  thy  face,  thy  limbs,  actions,  and  spirit, 

Do  give  thee  five- fold  blazon  :  not  too  fast :  soft,  soft ! 

Unless  the  master  were  the  man.     How  now ! 

Even  so  quickly  may  one  catch  the  plague? 

Methinks  I  feel  this  youth's  perfections 

With  an  invisible  and  subtle  stealth 

To  creep  in  at  mine  eyes.     Well,  let  it  be. 

What  ho,  Malvolio ! 

Re-enter  Malvolio. 

Mai.  Here,  madam,  at  your  service. 

OH.  Run  after  that  same  peevish  messenger,  310 

The  county's  man :  he  left  this  ring  behind  him, 
Would  I  or  not :  tell  him  I  '11  none  of  it. 
Desire  him  not  to  flatter  with  his  lord, 
Nor  hold  him  up  with  hopes ;  I  am  not  for  him : 
If  that  the  youth  will  come  this  way  to-morrow, 
I  '11  give  him  reasons  for  't :  hie  thee,  Malvolio. 

Mai.  Madam,  I  will.  [Exit. 

OIL  I  do  I  know  not  what,  and  fear  to  find 

43 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Mine  eye  too  great  a  flatterer  for  my  mind. 

Fate,  show  thy  force :  ourselves  we  do  not  owe ;  320 

What  is  decreed  must  be,  and  be  this  so. 

[Exit. 

ACT  SECOND. 
Scene  I. 

The  sea-coast. 
Enter  Antonio  and  Sebastian. 

Ant.  Will  you  stay  no  longer?  nor  will  you  not  that 
I  go  with  you  ? 

Seb.  By  your  patience,  no.  My  stars  shine  darkly 
over  me :  the  malignancy  of  my  fate  might  per- 
haps distemper  yours ;  therefore  I  shall  crave  of 
you  your  leave  that  I  may  bear  my  evils  alone : 
it  were  a  bad  recompense  for  your  love,  to  lay 
any  of  them  on  you. 

Ant.  Let  me  yet  know  of  you  whither  you  are 
bound. 

Seb.  No,  sooth,  sir:  my  determinate  voyage  is  mere  10 
extravagancy.  But  I  perceive  in  you  so  excel- 
lent a  touch  of  modesty,  that  you  will  not  extort 
from  me  what  I  am  willing  to  keep  in  ;  therefore 
it  charges  me  in  manners  the  rather  to  express 
myself.  You  must  know  of  me  then,  Antonio, 
my  name  is  Sebastian,  which  I  called  Roderigo. 
My  father  was  that  Sebastian  of  Messaline, 
whom  I  know  you  have  heard  of.  He  left  be- 
hind him  myself  and  a  sister,  both  born  in  an 
hour:  if  the  heavens  had  been  pleased,  would  20 
we  had  so  ended !  but  you,  sir,  altered  that ;  for 

44 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

some  hour  before  you  took  me  from  the  breach 
of  the  sea  was  my  sister  drowned. 

Ant.  Alas  the  day ! 

Seb.  A  lady,  sir,  though  it  was  said  she  much  re- 
sembled me,  was  yet  of  many  accounted  beauti- 
ful :  but,  though  I  could  not  with  such  estimable 
wonder  overfar  believe  that,  yet  thus  far  I  will 
boldly  publish  her;  she  bore  a  mind  that  envy 
could  not  but  call  fair.  She  is  drowned  already,  30 
sir,  with  salt  water,  though  I  seem  to  drown  her 
remembrance  again  with  more. 

Ant.  Pardon  me,  sir,  your  bad  entertainment. 

Seb.  O  good  Antonio,  forgive  me  your  trouble. 

Ant.  If  you  will  not  murder  me  for  my  love,  let  me 
be  your  servant. 

Seb.  If  you  will  not  undo  what  you  have  done,  that 
is,  kill  him  whom  you  have  recovered,  desire  it 
not.  Fare  ye  well  at  once :  my  bosom  is  full  of 
kindness,  and  I  am  yet  so  near  the  manners  of  40 
my  mother,  that  upon  the  least  occasion  more 
mine  eyes  will  tell  tales  of  me.  I  am  bound  to 
the  Count  Orsino's  court :  farewell.  [Exit. 

Ant.  The  gentleness  of  all  the  gods  go  with  thee ! 
I  have  many  enemies  in  Orsino's  court, 
Else  would  I  very  shortly  see  thee  there. 
But,  come  what  may,  I  do  adore  thee  so, 
That  danger  shall  seem  sport,  and  I  will  go.       [Exit. 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT ; 

Scene  II. 

A  street. 
Enter  Viola,  Malvolio  follozving. 

Mai.  Were  not  you  even  now  with  the  Countess 
Olivia  ? 

Vio.  Even  now,  sir ;  on  a  moderate  pace  I  have  since 
arrived  but  hither. 

Mai.  She  returns  this  ring  to  you,  sir:  you  might 
have  saved  me  my  pains,  to  have  taken  it  away 
yourself.  She  adds,  moreover,  that  you  should 
put  your  lord  into  a  desperate  assurance  she  will 
none  of  him :  and  one  thing  more,  that  you  be 
never  so  hardy  to  come  again  in  his  affairs,  10 
unless  it  be  to  report  your  lord's  taking  of  this. 
Receive  it  so. 

Vio.  She  took  the  ring  of  me :   I  '11  none  of  it. 

Mai.  Come,  sir,  you  peevishly  threw  it  to  her;  and 
her  will  is,  it  should  be  so  returned :  if  it  be 
worth  stooping  for,  there  it  lies  in  your  eye;  if 
not,  be  it  his  that  finds  it.  [Exit. 

Vio.  I  left  no  ring  with  her :  what  means  this  lady  ? 
Fortune  forbid  my  outside  have  not  charm'd  her ! 
She  made  good  view  of  me ;  indeed,  so  much,        20 
That  methought  her  eyes  had  lost  her  tongue, 
For  she  did  speak  in  starts  distractedly. 
She  loves  me,  sure ;  the  cunning  of  her  passion 
Invites  me  in  this  churlish  messenger. 
None  of  my  lord's  ring!    why,  he  sent  her  none. 
I  am  the  man  :  if  it  be  so,  as  'tis, 
Poor  lady,  she  were  better  love  a  dream. 
Disguise,  I  see,  thou  art  a  wickedness, 

46 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

Wherein  the  pregnant  enemy  does  much. 

How  easy  is  it  for  the  proper-false  30 

In  women's  waxen  hearts  to  set  their  forms ! 

Alas,  our  frailty  is  the  cause,  not  we! 

For  such  as  we  are  made  of,  such  we  be. 

How  will  this  fadge  ?  my  master  loves  her  dearly ; 

And  I,  poor  monster,  fond  as  much  on  him ; 

And  she,  mistaken,  seems  to  dote  on  me. 

What  will  become  of  this  ?     As  I  am  man, 

My  state  is  desperate  for  my  master's  love ; 

As  I  am  woman, — now  alas  the  day ! — 

What  thriftless  sighs  shall  poor  Olivia  breathe !      40 

O  time !   thou  must  untangle  this,  not  I ; 

It  is  too  hard  a  knot  for  me  to  untie !  [Exit. 

Scene  III. 

Olivia's  house. 
Enter  Sir  Toby  and  Sir  Andrew. 

Sir  To.  Approach,  Sir  Andrew  :  not  to  be  a-bed  after 
midnight  is  to  be  up  betimes ;  and  '  diluculo 
surgere,'  thou  know'st, — 

Sir  And.  Nay,  by  my  troth,  I  know  not :  but  I  know, 
to  be  up  late  is  to  be  up  late. 

Sir  To.  A  false  conclusion :  I  hate  it  as  an  unfilled 
can.  To  be  up  after  midnight  and  to  go  to  bed 
then,  is  early :  so  that  to  go  to  bed  after  mid- 
night is  to  go-  to  bed  betimes.  Does  not  our  life 
consist  of  the  four  elements  ?  10 

Sir  And.  Faith,  so  they  say ;  but  I  think  it  rather 
consists  of  eating  and  drinking. 

Sir  To.  Thou  'rt  a  scholar ;  let  us  therefore  eat  and 
drink.  Marian,  I  say !  a  stoup  of  wine ! 

47 


Act  II.  Sc.  Hi.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Enter  Clown. 

Sir  And.  Here  comes  the  fool,  i'  faith. 

Clo.  How  now,  my  hearts!  did  you  never  see  the 
picture  of  '  we  three  '  ? 

Sir  To.  Welcome,  ass.     Now  let 's  have  a  catch. 

Sir  And.  By   my  troth,   the   fool   has   an   excellent 

breast.  I  had  rather  than  forty  shillings  I  had  20 
such  a  leg,  and  so  sweet  a  breath  to  sing,  as  the 
fool  has.  In  sooth,  thou  wast  in  very  gracious 
fooling  last  night,  when  thou  spokest  of  Pigro- 
gromitus,  of  the  Vapians  passing  the  equinoctial 
of  Queubus :  'twas  very  good,  i'  faith.  I  sent 
thee  sixpence  for  thy  leman :  hadst  it  ? 

Clo.  I  did  irnpeticos  thy  gratillity ;  for  Malvolio's 
nose  is  no  whipstock :  my  lady  has  a  white  hand, 
and  the  Myrmidons  are  no  bottle-ale  houses. 

Sir  And.  Excellent !    why,  this  is  the  best  fooling,     30 
when  all  is  done.     Now,  a  song. 

Sir  To.  Come  on ;  there  is  sixpence  for  you :  let 's 
have  a  song. 

Sir  And.  There  's  a  testril  of  me  too :  if  one  knight 
give  a — 

Clo.  Would  you  have  a  love-song,  or  a  song  of  good 
life? 

Sir  To.  A  love-song,  a  love-song. 

Sir  And.  Ay,  ay :  I  care  not  for  good  life. 

Clo.   [Sings] 

O  mistress  mine,  where  are  you  roaming?  40 

O,  stay  and  hear ;  your  true  love  's  coming, 

That  can  sing  both  high  and  low : 
Trip  no  further,  pretty  sweeting ; 
Journeys  end  in  lovers  meeting, 
Every  wise  man's  son  doth  know. 

48 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

Sir  And.  Excellent  good,  i'  faith. 
Sir  To.  Good,  good. 
Clo.   [Sings] 

What  is  love  ?   'tis  not  hereafter ; 
Present  mirth  hath  present  laughter ; 

What 's  to  come  is  still  unsure :  50 

In  delay  there  lies  no  plenty ; 
Then  come  kiss  me,  sweet  and  twenty, 

Youth  's  a  stuff  will  not  endure. 
Sir  And.  A  mellifluous  voice,  as  I  am  true  knight. 
Sir  To.  A  contagious  breath. 
Sir  And.  Very  sweet  and  contagious,  i'  faith. 
Sir  To.  To  hear  by  the  nose,  it  is  dulcet  in  contagion. 
But  shall  we  make  the  welkin  dance  indeed? 
shall  we  rouse  the  night-owl  in  a  catch  that  will 
draw  three  souls  out  of  one  weaver?   shall  we 
do  that  ?  60 

Sir  And.  An  you  love  me,  let 's  do  't :   I  am  dog  at  a 

catch. 

Clo.  By  'r  lady,  sir,  and  some  dogs  will  catch  well. 
Sir  And.  Most   certain.     Let   our   catch   be,    '  Thou 

knave.' 
Clo.  '  Hold  thy  peace,  thou  knave,'  knight  ?     I  shall 

be  constrained  in  't  to  call  thee  knave,  knight. 
Sir  And.  'Tis  not  the  first  time  I  have  constrained 
one  to  call  me  knave.     Begin,  fool :    it  begins. 
'  Hold  thy  peace.'  70 

Clo.  I  shall  never  begin  if  I  hold  my  peace. 
Sir  And.  Good,  i'  faith.     Come,  begin.          [Catch  sung. 

Enter  Maria. 

Mar.  What  a  caterwauling  do  you  keep  here!     If 
my  lady  have  not  called  up  her  steward  Malvolio 

49 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

and  bid  him  turn  you  out  of  doors,  never  trust 
me. 

Sir  To.  My   lady  ?s   a   Cataian,    we   are   politicians, 
Malvolio  's  a  Peg-a-Ramsay,  and  '  Three  merry 
men  be  we.'     Am  not  I  consanguineous?   am  I 
not  of  her  blood?     Tillyvally.     Lady!   [Sings]     So 
'  There  dwelt  a  man  in  Babylon,  lady,  lady ! ' 

Clo.  Beshrew  me,  the  knight 's  in  admirable  fooling. 

Sir  And.  Ay,  he  does  well  enough  if  he  be  disposed, 
and  so  do  I  too :  he  does  it  with  a  better  grace, 
but  I  do  it  more  natural. 

Sir  To.   [Sings']  '  O,  the  twelfth  day  of  December ', — 

Mar.  For  the  love  o'  God,  peace ! 

Enter  Malvolio. 

Mai.  My  masters,  are  you  mad?  or  what  are  you? 
Have  you  no  wit,  manners,  nor  honesty,  but  to 
gabble  like  tinkers  at  this  time  of  night?  Do  90 
ye  make  an  alehouse  of  my  lady's  house,  that 
ye  squeak  out  your  coziers'  catches  without  any 
mitigation  or  remorse  of  voice?  Is  there  no 
respect  of  place,  persons,  nor  time  in  you  ? 

Sir  To.  We  did  keep  time,  sir,  in  our  catches. 
Sneck  up ! 

Mai.  Sir  Toby,  I  must  be  round  with  you.  My  ladv 
bade  me  tell  you,  that,  though  she  harbours 
you  as  her  kinsman,  she  's  nothing  allied  to  your 
disorders.  If  you  can  separate  yourself  and  100 
your  misdemeanours,  you  are  welcome  to  the 
house;  if  not,  an  it  would  please  you  to  take 
leave  of  her,  she  is  very  willing  to  bid  you  fare- 
well. 

So 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

Sir  To.  '  Farewell,  dear  heart,  since  I  must  needs  be 
gone.' 

Mar.  Nay,  good  Sir  Toby. 

Clo.  '  His  eyes  do  show  his  days  are  almost  done.' 

Mai.  Is  't  even  so  ? 

Sir  To.  'But  I  will  never  die.'  no 

Clo.  Sir  Toby,  there  you  lie. 

Mai.  This  is  much  credit  to  you. 

Sir  To.  '  Shall  I  bid  him  go'?  ' 

Clo.  '  What  an  if  you  do?  ' 

Sir  To.  '  Shall  I  bid  him  go,  and  spare  not  ?  ' 

Clo.  '  O  no,  no,  no,  no,  you  dare  not.' 

Sir  To.  Out  o'  tune,  sir :  ye  lie.  Art  any  more 
than  a  steward?  Dost  thou  think,  because  thou 
art  virtuous,  there  shall  be  no  more  cakes  and 
ale?  1 20 

Clo.  Yes,  by  Saint  Anne,  and  ginger  shall  be  hot  i' 
the  mouth  too. 

Sir  To.  Thou'rt  i'  the  right.  Go,  sir,  rub  your  chain 
with  crumbs.  A  stoup  of  wine,  Maria! 

Mai.  Mistress  Mary,  if  you  prized  my  lady's  favour 
at  any  thing  more  than  contempt,  you  would  not 
give  means  for  this  uncivil  rule :  she  shall  know 
of  it,  by  this  hand.  [Exit. 

Mar.  Go  shake  your  ears. 

Sir  And.  'Twere  as  good  a  deed  as  to  drink  when   130 
a  man  's  a-hungry,  to  challenge  him  the  field,  and 
then  to  break  promise  with  him  and  make  a  fool 
of  him. 

Sir  To.  Do  't  knight :  I  '11  write  thee  a  challenge ; 
or  I  '11  deliver  thy  indignation  to  him  by  word 
of  mouth. 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Mar.  Sweet  Sir  Toby,  be  patient  for  to-night :  since 
the  youth  of  the  count's  was  to-day  with  my 
lady,  she  is  much  out  of  quiet.  For  Monsieur 
Malvolio.  let  me  alone  with  him  :  if  I  do  not  gull  140 
him  into  a  nayword,  and  make  him  a  common 
recreation,  do  not  think  I  have  wit  enough  to 
lie  straight  in  my  bed :  I  know  I  can  do  it. 

Sir  To.  Possess  us,  possess  us ;  tell  us  something  of 
him. 

Mar.  Marry,  sir,  sometimes  he  is  a  kind  of  puritan. 

Sir  And.  O,  if  I  thought  that,  I  'Id  beat  him  like  a  dog ! 

Sir  To.  What,  for  being  a  puritan  ?  thy  exquisite 
reason,  dear  knight? 

Sir  And.  I  have  no  exquisite  reason  for  't,  but  I  have  150 
reason  good  enough. 

Mar.  The  devil  a  puritan  that  he  is,  or  any  thing 
constantly,  but  a  time-pleaser ;  an  affectioned 
ass,  that  cons  state  without  book  and  utters  it  by 
great  swarths  :  the  best  persuaded  of  himself,  so 
crammed,  as  he  thinks,  with  excellencies,  that  it 
is  his  grounds  of  faith  that  all  that  look  on  him 
love  him ;  and  on  that  vice  in  .him  will  my  re- 
venge find  notable  cause  to  work. 

Sir  To.  What  wilt  thou  do?  160 

Mar.  I  will  drop  in  his  way  some  obscure  epistles 
of  love ;  wherein,  by  the  colour  of  his  beard, 
the  shape  of  his  leg,  the  manner  of  his  gait,  the 
expressure  of  his  eye,  forehead,  and  complexion, 
he  shall  find  himself  most  feelingly  personated. 
I  can  write  very  like  my  lady  your  niece :  on  a 
forgotten  matter  we  can  hardly  make  distinction 
of  our  hands. 

52 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

Sir  To.  Excellent !     I  smell  a  device. 

Sir  And.  I  have  't  in  my  nose  too. 

Sir  To.  He  shall  think,  by  the  letters  that  thou  wilt  170 
drop,  that  they  come  from  my  niece,  and  that 
she  's  in  love  with  him. 

Mar.  My  purpose  is,  indeed,  a  horse  of  that  colour. 

Sir  And.  And  your  horse  now  would  make  him  an 
ass. 

Mar.  Ass,  I  doubt  not. 

Sir  And.  O,  'twill  be  admirable ! 

Mar.  Sport  royal,  I  warrant  you :  I  know  rny  physic 
will  work  with  him.  I  will  plant  you  two,  and 
let  the  fool  make  a  third,  where  he  shall  find  the  180 
letter :  observe  his  construction  of  it.  For  this 
night,  to  bed,  and  dream  on  the  event.  Fare- 
well. [Exit. 

Sir  To.  Good  night,  Penthesilea. 

Sir  And.  Before  me,  she  's  a  good  wench. 

Sir  To.  She 's  a  beagle,  true-bred,  and  one  that 
adores  me :  what  o'  that  ? 

Sir  And.  I  was  adored  once  too. 

Sir  To.  Let 's  to  bed,  knight.  Thou  hadst  need  send 
for  more  money. 

Sir  And.  If  I  cannot  recover  your  niece,  I  am  a  foul  190 
way  out. 

Sir  To.  Send  for  money,  knight ;  if  thou  hast  her  not 
i'  the  end,  call  me  cut. 

Sir  And.  If  I  do  not,  never  trust  me,  take  it  how  you 
will. 

Sir.  Come,  come,  I  '11  go  burn  some  sock ;  'tis  too 
late  to  go  to  bed  now :  come,  knight ;  come, 
knight.  [Exeunt. 

53 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Scene  IV. 

The  Duke's  palace. 
Enter  Duke,  Viola,  Curio,  and  others. 

Duke.  Give  me  some  music.    Now,  good  morrow,  friends, 
Now,  good  Cesario,  but  that  piece  of  song, 
That  old  and  antique  song  we  heard  last  night : 
Methought  it  did  relieve  my  passion  much, 
More  than  light  airs  and  recollected  terms 
Of  these  most  brisk  and  giddy-paced  times : 
Come,  but  one  verse. 

Cur.  He  is  not  here,  so  please  your  lordship,  that 
should  sing  it. 

Duke.  Who  was  it?  10 

Cur.  Feste,  the  jester,  my  lord ;  a  fool  that  the  lady 
Olivia's  father  took  much  delight  in.  He  is 
about  the  house. 

Duke.  Seek  him  out,  and  play  the  tune  the  while. 

[Exit  Curio.     Music  plays. 
Come  hither,  boy :  if  ever  thou  shalt  love, 
In  the  sweet  pangs  of  it  remember  me ; 
For  such  as  I  am  all  true  lovers  are, 
Unstaid  and  skittish  in  all  motions  else, 
Save  in  the  constant  image  of  the  creature 
That  is  beloved.     How  dost  thou  like  this  tune  ?     20 

Vio.  It  gives  a  very  echo  to  the  seat 
Where  love  is  throned. 

Duke.  Thou  dost  speak  masterly : 

My  life  upon  't,  young  though  thou  art,  thine  eye 
Hath  stay'd  upon  some  favour  that  it  loves : 
Hath  it  not,  boy  ? 

54 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  II.  Sc.  iv. 

Vio.  A  little,  by  your  favour. 

Duke.  What  kind  of  woman  is  't  ? 

Vio.  Of  your  complexion. 

Duke.  She  is  not  worth  thee,  then.    What  years,  i'  faith  ? 

Vio.  About  your  years,  my  lord. 

Duke.  Too  old,  by  heaven :  let  still  the  woman  take 

An  elder  than  herself ;  so  wears  she  to  him,  30 

So  sways  she  level  in  her  husband's  heart : 

For,  boy,  however  we  do  praise  ourselves, 

Our  fancies  are  more  giddy  and  unfirm, 

More  longing,  wavering,  sooner  lost  and  worn, 

Than  women's  are. 

Vio.  I  think  it  well,  my  lord. 

Duke.  Then  let  thy  love  be  younger  than  thyself, 
Or  thy  affection  cannot  hold  the  bent ; 
For  women  are  as  roses,  whose  fair  flower 
Being  once  display'd  doth  fall  that  very  hour. 

Vio.  And  so  they  are :  alas,  that  they  are  so ;  40 

To  die,  even  when  they  to  perfection  grow ! 

Re-enter  Curio  and  Cloivn. 

Duke.  O,  fellow,  come,  the  song  we  had  last  night. 
Mark  it,  Cesario,  it  is  old  and  plain  ; 
The  spinsters  and  the  knitters  in  the  sun 
And  the  free  maids  that  weave  their  thread  with 

bones 

Do  use  to  chant  it :   it  is  silly  sooth. 
And  dallies  with  the  innocence  of  love, 
Like  the  old  age. 

Clo.  Are  you  ready,  sir  ?  50 

Duke.  Ay ;   prithee,  sing.  [Music. 

55 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT: 

SONG. 

Clo.  Come  away,  come  away,  death, 

And  in  sad  cypress  let  me  be  laid ; 
Fly  away,  fly  away,  breath ; 

I  am  slain  by  a  fair  cruel  maid. 
My  shroud  of  white,  stuck  all  with  yew, 

O,  prepare  it ! 

My  part  of  death,  no  one  so  true 
Did  share  it. 

Not  a  flower,  not  a  flower  sweet,  60 

On  my  black  coffin  let  there  be  strown ; 
Not  a  friend,  not  a  friend  greet 

My  poor  corpse,  where  my  bones  shall  be  thrown : 
A  thousand  thousand  sighs  to  save, 

Lay  me,  O,  where 
Sad  true  lover  never  find  my  grave, 
To  weep  there! 

Duke.  There  's  for  thy  pains. 
Clo.  No  pains,  sir ;  I  take  pleasure  in  singing,  sir. 
Duke.  I  '11  pay  thy  pleasure  then.  70 

Clo.  Truly,  sir,  and  pleasure  will  be  paid,  one  time  or 
another. 

Duke.  Give  me  now  leave  to  leave  thee. 

Clo.  Now,  the  melancholy  god  protect  thee ;  and  the 
tailor  make  thy  doublet  of  changeable  taffeta,  for 
thy  mind  is  a  very  opal.  I  would  have  men  of 
such  constancy  put  to  sea,  that  their  business 
might  be  every  thing  and  their  intent  every 
where ;  for  that 's  it  that  always  makes  a  good 
voyage  of  nothing.  Farewell.  [Exit.  80 

56 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  II.  Sc.  iv. 

Duke.  Let  all  the  rest  give  place. 

[Curio  and  Attendants  retire. 

Once  more,  Cesario, 

Get  thee  to  yond  same  sovereign  cruelty : 
Tell  her,  my  love,  more  noble  than  the  world, 
Prizes  not  quantity  of  dirty  lands ; 
The  parts  that  fortune  hath  bestow'd  upon  her, 
Tell  her,  I  hold  as  giddily  as  fortune ; 
But  'tis  that  miracle  and  queen  of  gems 
That  nature  pranks  her  in  attracts  my  soul. 

Vio.  But  if  she  cannot  love  you,  sir  ? 

Duke.  I  cannot  be  so  answer'd. 

Vio.  Sooth,  but  you  must.     90 

Say  that  some  lady,  as  perhaps  there  is, 
Hath  for  your  love  as  great  a  pang  of  heart 
As  you  have  for  Olivia :   you  cannot  love  her ; 
You  tell  her  so ;  must  she  not  then  be  answer'd  ? 

Duke.  There  is  no  woman's  sides 

Can  bide  the  beating  of  so  strong  a  passion 

As  love  doth  give  my  heart :  no  woman's  heart 

So  big,  to  hold  so  much  ;  they  lack  retention. 

Alas,  their  love  may  be  call'd  appetite, — 

No  motion  of  the  liver,  but  the  palate, —  100 

That  suffer  surfeit,  cloyment  and  revolt ; 

But  mine  is  all  as  hungry  as  the  sea, 

And  can  digest  as  much :   make  no  compare 

Between  that  love  a  woman  can  bear  me 

And  that  I  owe  Olivia. 

Vio.  Ay,  but  I  know, — 

Duke.  What  dost  thou  know? 

Vio.  Too  well  what  love  women  to  men  may  owe : 
In  faith,  they  are  as  true  of  heart  as  we. 

57 


Act  II.  Sc.  v.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

My  father  had  a  daughter  loved  a  man, 

As  it  might  be,  perhaps,  were  I  a  woman,  1 10 

I  should  your  lordship. 

Duke.  And  what 's  her  history  ? 

Vio.  A  blank,  my  lord.     She  never  told  her  love, 
But  let  concealment,  like  a  worm  i'  the  bud, 
Feed  on  her  damask  cheek  :  she  pined  in  thought ; 
And,  with  a  green  and  yellow  melancholy, 
She  sat  like  patience  on  a  monument, 
Smiling  at  grief.     Was  not  this  love  indeed? 
We  men  may  say  more,  swear  more :  but  indeed 
Our  shows  are  more  than  will ;  for  still  we  prove 
Much  in  our  vows,  but  little  in  our  love.  120 

Duke.  But  died  thy  sister  of  her  love,  my  boy? 

Vio.  I  am  all  the  daughters  of  my  father's  house, 
And  all  the  brothers  too :  and  yet  I  know  not. 
Sir,  shall  I  to  this  lady  ? 

Duke.  Ay,  that 's  the  theme. 

To  her  in  haste ;  give  her  this  jewel ;  say, 
My  love  can  give  no  place,  bide  no  denay. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  V. 

Olivia's  garden. 
Enter  Sir  Toby,  Sir  Andrew,  and  Fabian. 

Sir  To.  Come  thy  ways,  Signior  Fabian. 

Fab.  Nay,  I  '11  come :  if  I  lose  a  scruple  of  this  sport, 
let  me  be  boiled  to  death  with  melancholy. 

Sir  To.  Wouldst  thou  not  be  glad  to  have  the  nig- 
gardly rascally  sheep-biter  come  by  some  notable 
shame  ? 

58 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  II.  Sc.  v. 

Fab.  I  would  exult,  man :   you  know,  he  brought  me 

out  o'  favour  with  my  lady  about  a  bear-baiting 

here. 
Sir  To.  To  anger  him  we  '11  have  the  bear  again  ;  and     10 

we  will  fool  him  black  and  blue :    shall  we  not, 

Sir  Andrew? 

Sir  And.  An  we  do  not,  it  is  pity  of  our  lives. 
Sir  To.  Here  comes  the  little  villain. 

Enter  Maria. 

How  now,  my  metal  of  India ! 

Mar.  Get  ye  all  three  into  the  box-tree:  Malvolio's 
coming  down  this  walk :  he  has  been  yonder  i' 
the  sun  practising  behaviour  to  his  own  shadow 
this  half  hour :  observe  him,  for  the  love  of 
mockery ;  for  I  know  this  letter  will  make  a  20 
contemplative  idiot  of  him.  Close,  in  the  name 
of  jesting !  Lie  thou  there  [throws  down  a  let- 
ter} ;  for  here  comes  the  trout  that  must  be 
caught  with  tickling.  [Exit. 

Enter  Malvolio. 

Mai.  'Tis  but  fortune ;  all  is  fortune.  Maria  once 
told  me  she  did  affect  me :  and  I  have  heard  her- 
self come  thus  near,  that,  should  she  fancy,  it 
should  be  one  of  my  complexion.  Besides,  she 
uses  me  with  a  more  exalted  respect  than  any 
one  else  that  follows  her.  What  should  I  think  30 
on  't? 

Sir  To.  Here  's  an  overweening  rogue ! 

Fab.  O,  peace !  Contemplation  makes  a  rare  turkey- 
cock  of  him :  how  he  jets  under  his  advanced 
plumes ! 

59 


Act  II.  Sc.  v.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Sir  And.  'Slight,  I  could  so  beat  the  rogue ! 

Sir  To.  Peace,  I  say. 

Mai.  To  be  Count  Malvolio ! 

Sir  To.  Ah,  rogue ! 

Sir  And.  Pistol  him,  pistol  him. 

Sir  To.  Peace,  peace !  40 

Mai.  There  is  example  for  't ;  the  lady  of  the  Strachy 
married  the  yeoman  of  the  wardrobe. 

Sir  And.  Fie  on  him,  Jezebel! 

Fab.  O,  peace !  now  he  's  deeply  in :  look  how  im- 
agination blows  him. 

Mai.  Having  been  three  months  married  to  her,  sit- 
ting in  my  state, — 

Sir  To.  O,  for  a  stone-bow,  to  hit  him  in  the  eye ! 

Mai.  Calling  my  officers  about  me,  in  my  branched 

velvet   gown ;     having   come    from    a    day-bed,     50 
where  I  have  left  Olivia  sleeping, — 

Sir  To.  Fire  and  brimstone ! 

Fab.  O,  peace,  peace ! 

Mai.  And  then  to  have  the  humour  of  state ;  and 
after  a  demure  travel  of  regard,  telling  them  I 
know  my  place  as  I  would  they  should  do  theirs, 
to  ask  for  my  kinsman  Toby, — 

Sir  To.  Bolts  and  shackles ! 

Fab.  O,  peace,  peace,  peace!  now,  now. 

Mai.  Seven  of  my  people,  with  an  obedient  start,     60 
make  out  for  him :  I  frown  the  while ;  and  per- 
chance wind  up  my  watch,  or  play  writh  my — 
some  rich  jewel.     Toby  approaches  ;    courtesies 
there  to  me, — 

Sir  To.  Shall  this  fellow  live  ? 

Fab.  Though  our  silence  be  drawn  from  us  with  cars, 
yet  peace. 

60 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  II.  Sc.  v. 

Mai.  I  extend  my  hand  to  him  thus,  quenching  my 
familiar  smile  with  an  austere  regard  of  con- 
trol,— 

Sir  To.  And  does  not  Toby  take  you  a  blow  o'  the     70 
lips  then. 

Mai.  Saying,  '  Cousin  Toby,  my  fortunes  having 
cast  me  on  your  niece  give  me  this  prerogative 
of  speech,' — 

Sir  To.  What,  what? 

Mai.  '  You  must  amend  your  drunkenness.' 

Sir  To.  Out,  scab ! 

Fab.  Nay,  patience,  or  we  break  the  sinews  of  our 

Mai.  '  Besides,  you  waste  the  treasure  of  your  time 

with  a  foolish  knight,'—  80 

Sir  And.  That 's  me,  I  warrant  you. 

Mai.  '  One  Sir  Andrew,'— 

Sir  And.  I  know  'twas  I ;   for  many  do  call  me  fool. 

Mai.  What  employment  have  we  here  ? 

[  Taking  up  the  letter. 

Fab.   Now  is  the  woodcock  near  the  gin. 

i>irTo.  O,  peace!  and  the  spirit  of  humours  inti- 
mate reading  aloud  to  him. 

Mai.  By  my  life,  this  is  my  lady's  hand ;  these  be  her 
very  C's,  her  U's,  and  her  T's ;   and  thus  makes 
she  her  great  P's.     It  is,  in  contempt  of  ques-     90 
tion,  her  hand. 

Sir  And.  Her  C's,  her  U's,  and  her  T's:   why  that? 

Mai.  [reads]  To  the  unknown  beloved,  this,  and  my 
good  wishes : — her  very  phrases !  By  your 
leave,  wax.  Soft !  and  the  impressure  her  Lu- 
crece,  with  which  she  uses  to  seal :  'tis  my  lady. 
To  whom  should  this  be? 

61 


Act  II.  Sc.  v.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Fab.  This  wins  him,  liver  and  all. 

Mai.   [reads}          Jove  knows  I  love : 

But  who?  100 

Lips  do  not  move ; 
No  man  must  know. 

'  No  man  must  know.'  What  follows?  the  num- 
bers altered !  '  No  man  must  know  ' :  if  this 
should  be  thee,  Malvolio  ? 

Sir  To.  Marry,  hang  thee,  brock ! 

Mai.   [Reads]     I  may  command  where  I  adore ; 
But  silence,  like  a  Lucrece  knife, 
With  bloodless  stroke  my  heart  doth  gore : 
M,  O,  A,  I,  doth  sway  my  life.  no 

Fab.  A  fustian  riddle ! 

Sir  To.  Excellent  wench,  say  I 

Mai.  '  M,  O,  A,  I,  doth  sway  my  life.'       Nay,  but 
first,  let  me  see,  let  me  see,  let  me  see. 

Fab.  What  dish  o'  poison  has  she  dressed  him ! 

Sir  To.  And  with  what  wing  the  staniel  checks  at  it! 

Mai.  '  I  may  command  where  I  adore.'  Why,  she 
may  command  me ;  I  serve  her ;  she  is  my  lady. 
Why,  this  is  evident  to  any  formal  capacity ; 
there  is  no  obstruction  in  this:  and  the  end, —  120 
what  should  that  alphabetical  position  portend? 
If  I  could  make  that  resemble  something  in  me, 
—Softly !  M,  O,  A,  I,— 

Sir  To.  O,  ay,  make  up  that :  he  is  now  at  a  cold  scent. 

Fab.  Sowter  will  cry  upon  't  for  all  this,  though  it  be 
as  rank  as  a  fox. 

Mai.  M, — Malvolio ;  M, — why,  that  begins  my  name. 

Fab.  Did  not  I  say  he  would  work  it  out  ?  the  cur  is 
excellent  at  faults. 

62 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  II.  Sc.  v. 

Mai.  M, — but  then  there  is  no  consonancy  in  the  130 
sequel ;   that  suffers  under  probation  :   A  should 
follow,  but  O  does. 

Fab.  And  O  shall  end,  I  hope. 

Sir  To.  Ay,  or  I  '11  cudgel  him,  and  make  him  cry  O ! 

Mai.  And  then  I  comes  behind. 

Fab.  Ay,  an  you  had  any  eye  behind  you,  you  might 
see  more  detraction  at  your  heels  than  fortunes 
before  you. 

Mai.  M,   O,  A,   I;  this   simulation  is   not   as   the 

former :  and  yet,  to  crush  this  a  little,  it  would  140 
bow  to  me,  for  every  one  of  these  letters  are 
in  my  name.  Soft !  here  follows  prose. 
[Reads]  If  this  fall  into  thy  hand,  revolve.  In 
my  stars  I  am  above  thee ;  but  be  not  afraid  of 
greatness:  some  are  born  great,  some  achieve 
greatness,  and  some  have  greatness  thrust  upon 
'em.  Thy  Fates  open  their  hands ;  let  thy 
blood  and  spirit  embrace  them;  and,  to  inure 
thyself  to  what  thou  art  like  to  be,  cast  thy 
humble  slough  and  appear  fresh.  Be  opposite  150 
with  a  kinsman,  surly  with  servants ;  let  thy 
tongue  tang  arguments  of  state ;  put  thyself  into 
the  trick  of  singularity :  she  thus  advises  thee 
that  sighs  for  thee.  Remember  who  commended 
thy  yellow  stockings,  and  wished  to  see  thee  ever 
cross-gartered:  I  say,  remember.  Go  to,  thou 
art  made,  if  thou  desirest  to  be  so;  if  not,  let 
me  see  thee  a  steward  still,  the  fellow  of  servants, 
and  not  worthy  to  touch  Fortune's  fingers.  Fare- 
well. She  that  would  alter  services  with  thee,  160 
THE  FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY. 

63 


Act  II.  Sc.  v.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Daylight  and  champain  discovers  not  more :  this 
is  open.  I  will  be  proud,  I  will  read  politic 
authors,  I  will  baffle  Sir  Toby,  I  will  wash  off 
gross  acquaintance,  I  will  be  point-devise  the 
very  man.  I  do  not  now  fool  myself,  to  let 
imagination  jade  me  ;  for  every  reason  excites  to 
this,  that  my  lady  loves  me.  She  did  commend 
my  yellow  stockings  of  late,  she  did  praise  my 
leg  being  cross-gartered;  and  in  this  she  mani-  170 
fests  herself  to  my  love,  and  with  a  kind  of  in- 
junction drives  me  to  these  habits  of  her  liking. 
I  thank  my  stars  I  am  happy.  I  will  be  strange, 
stout,  in  yellow  stockings,  and  cross-gartered, 
even  with  the  swiftness  of  putting  on.  Jove  and 
my  stars  be  praised!  Here  is  yet  a  postscript. 
[Reads]  Thou  canst  not  choose  but  know  who  I 
am.  If  thou  entertainest  my  love,  let  it  appear  in 
thy  smiling ;  thy  smiles  become  thee  well ;  there- 
fore in  my  presence  still  smile,  dear  my  sweet,  I  180 
prithee.  Jove,  I  thank  thee :  I  will  smile ;  I  will 
do  everything  that  thou  wilt  have  me.  [Exit. 

Fab.  I  will  not  give  my  part  of  this  sport  for  a  pen- 
sion of  thousands  to  be  paid  from  the  Sophy. 

Sir  To.  I  could  marry  this  wench  for  this  device, — 

Sir  And.  So  could  I  too. 

Sir  To.  And  ask  no  other  dowry  with  her  but  such 
another  jest. 

Sir  And.  Nor  I  neither. 

Fab.  Here  comes  my  noble  gull-catcher.  190 

Re-enter  Maria. 

Sir  To.  Wilt  thou  set  thy  foot  o'  my  neck? 

64 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  III.  Sc.  i, 

Sir  And.  Or  o'  mine  either  ? 

Sir  To.  Shall  I  play  my  freedom  at  tray-trip,  and 
become  thy  bond-slave? 

Sir  And.  I'  faith,  or  I  either  ? 

Sir  To.  Why,  thou  hast  put  him  in  such  a  dream, 
that  when  the  image  of  it  leaves  him  he  must 
run  mad. 

Mar.  Nay,  but  say  true :  does  it  work  upon  him  ? 

Sir  To.  Like  aqua-vitae  with  a  midwife.  200 

Mar.  If  you  will  then  see  the  fruits  of  the  sport, 
mark  his  first  approach  before  my  lady :  he  will 
come  to  her  in  yellow  stockings,  and  'tis  a 
colour  she  abhors,  and  cross-gartered,  a  fashion 
she  detests ;  and  he  will  smile  upon  her,  which 
will  now  be  so  unsuitable  to  her  disposition,  be- 
ing addicted  to  a  melancholy  as  she  is,  that  it 
cannot  but  turn  him  into  a  notable  contempt.  If 
you  will  see  it,  follow  me. 

Sir  To.  To  the  gates  of  Tartar,  thou  most  excellent  210 
devil  of  wit! 

Sir  And.  I  '11  make  one  too.  {Exeunt. 

ACT   THIRD. 
Scene  I. 

Olivia's  garden. 
Enter  Viola  and  Clown  with  a  tabor. 

Vio.  Save  thee,   friend,  and  thy  music :    dost  thou 

live  by  thy  tabor  ? 
Clo.  No,  sir,  I  live  by  the  church. 
Vio.  Art  thou  a  churchman ! 

65 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Clo.  No  such  matter,  sir :  I  do  live  by  the  church ; 
for  I  do  live  at  my  house,  and  my  house  doth 
stand  by  the  church. 

Vio.  So  thou  mayst  say,  the  king  lies  by  a  beggar, 
if  a  beggar   dwell  near  him ;   or,   the   church 
stands  by  thy  tabor,  if  thy  tabor  stand  by  the     10 
church. 

Clo.  You  have  said,  sir.  To  see  this  age!  A  sen- 
tence is  but  a  cheveril  glove  to  a  good  wit: 
how  quickly  the  wrong  side  may  be  turned 
outward ! 

Vio.  Xay,  that 's  certain ;  they  that  dally  nicely  with 
words  may  quickly  make  them  wanton. 

Clo.  I  would,  therefore,  my  sister  had  had  no  name, 
sir. 

Vio.  Why,  man?  20 

Clo.  Why,  sir,  her  name  's  a  word;  and  to  dally  with 
that  word  might  make  my  sister  wanton.  But 
indeed  words  are  very  rascals  since  bonds  dis- 
graced them. 

Vio.  Thy  reason,  man  ? 

Clo.  Troth,  sir,  I  can  yield  you  none  without  words ; 
and  words  are  grown  so  false,  I  am  loath  to 
prove  reason  with  them. 

Vio.  I  warrant  thou  art  a  merry  fellow  and'carest  for 

nothing.  30 

Clo.  Not  so,  sir,  I  do  care  for  something ;  but  in  my 
conscience,  sir,  I  do  not  care  for  you :  if  that  be 
to  care  for  nothing,  sir,  I  would  it  would  make 
you  invisible. 

Vio.  Art  not  thou  the  Lady  Olivia's  fool  ? 

Clo.  No,  indeed,  sir;   the  Lady  Olivia  has  no  folly: 

66 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

she  will  keep  no  fool,  sir,  till  she  be  married; 
and  fools  are  as  like  husbands  as  pilchards  are  to 
herrings ;  the  husband  's  the  bigger :  I  am  in- 
deed not  her  fool,  but  her  corrupter  of  words.  40 

Vio.  I  saw  thee  late  at  the  Count  Orsino's. 

Clo.  Foolery,  sir,  does  walk  about  the  orb  like  the 
sun,  it  shines  everywhere.  I  would  be  sorry, 
sir,  but  the  fool  should  be  as  oft  with  your  master 
as  with  my  mistress :  I  think  I  saw  your  wisdom 
there. 

Vio.  Nay,  an  thou  pass  upon  me,  I  '11  no  more  with 
thee.  Hold,  there  's  expenses  for  thee. 

Clo.  Now  Jove,  in  his  next  commodity  of  hair,  send 

thee  a  beard  !  50 

Vio.  By  my  troth,  I  '11  tell  thee,  I  am  almost  sick  for 
one;  [Aside]  though  I  would  not  have  it  grow 
on  my  chin.  Is  thy  lady  within  ? 

Clo.  Would  not  a  pair  of  these  have  bred,  sir  ? 

Vio.  Yes,  being  kept  together  and  put  to  use. 

Clo.  I  would  play  Lord  Pandarus  of  Phrygia,  sir,  to 
bring  a  Cressida  to  this  Troilus. 

Vio.  I  understand  you,  sir ;  'tis  well  begged. 

Clo.  The  matter,  I  hope,  is  not  great,  sir,  begging 

but  a  beggar :  Cressida  was  a  beggar.    My  lady     60 
is  within,  sir.     I  will  construe  to  them  whence 
you  come ;  who  you  are  and  what  you  would  are 
out  of  my  welkin,  I  might  say  '  element,'  but  the 
word  is  over- worn.  [Exit. 

Vio.  This  fellow  is  wise  enough  to  play  the  fool ; 
And  to  do  that  well  craves  a  kind  of  wit : 
He  must  observe  their  mood  on  whom  he  jests, 
The  quality  of  persons,  and  the  time, 

67 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

And,  like  the  haggard,  check  at  every  feather 

That  comes  before  his  eye.    This  is  a  practice          70 

As  full  of  labour  as  a  wise  man's  art : 

For  folly  that  he  wisely  shows  is  fit ; 

But  wise  men,  folly- fall'n,  quite  taint  their  wit. 

Enter  Sir  Toby  and  Sir  Andrevv. 

Sir  To.  Save  you,  gentleman. 

Vio.  And  you,  sir. 

Sir  And.  Dieu  vous  garde,  monsieur. 

Vio.  Et  votts  aussi ;  votre  serviteur, 

Sir  And.  I  hope,  sir,  you  are ;  and  I  am  yours. 

Sir  To.  Will  you  encounter  the  house  ?   my  niece  is 

desirous  you  should  enter,  if  your  trade  be  to    80 

her. 
Vio.  I  am  bound  to  your  niece,  sir ;  I  mean,  she  is  the 

list  of  my  voyage. 

Sir  To.  Taste  your  legs,  sir ;  put  them  to  motion. 
Vio.  My  legs  do  better  understand  me,  sir,  than  I 

understand  what  you  mean  by  bidding  me  taste 

my  legs. 

Sir  To.  I  mean,  to  go,  sir,  to  enter. 
Vio.  I  will  answer  you  with  gait  and  entrance. 

But  we  are  prevented.  90 

Enter  Olivia  and  Maria. 

Most  excellent  accomplished  lady,  the  heavens 

rain  odours  on  you ! 
Sir  And.  That    youth 's    a    rare    courtier :     '  Rain 

odours ' ;    well. 
Vio.  My  matter  hath  no  voice,  lady,  but  to  your  own 

most  pregnant  and  vouchsafed  ear. 

68 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

Sir  And.  'Odours,'    'pregnant,'   and    'vouchsafed': 
I  '11  get  'em  all  three  all  ready. 

OIL  Let  the  garden  door  be  shut,  and  leave  me  to 

my  hearing.   [Exeunt  Sir  Toby,  Sir  Andrew,  and  100 
Maria.]     Give  me  your  hand,  sir. 

Vio.  My  duty,  madam,  and  most  humble  service. 

Oli.  What  is  your  name  ? 

Vio.  Cesario  is  your  servant's  name,  fair  princess. 

Oli.  My  servant,  sir !    'Twas  never  merry  world 
Since  lowly  feigning  was  call'd  compliment : 
You  're  servant  to  the  Count  Orsino,  youth. 

Vio.  And  he  is  yours,  and  his  must  needs  be  yours : 
Your  servant's  servant  is  your  servant,  madam. 

Oli.  For  him,  I  think  not  on  him :  for  his  thoughts,       no 
Would  they  were  blanks,  rather  than  filled  with  me ! 

Vio.  Madam,  I  come  to  whet  your  gentle  thoughts 
On  his  behalf. 

Oli.  O,  by  your  leave,  I  pray  you ; 

I  bade  you  n^ver  speak  again  of  him  : 
But,  would  you  undertake  another  suit, 
I  had  rather  hear  you  to  solicit  that 
Than  music  from  the  spheres. 

Vio.  Dear  lady, — 

Oli.  Give  me  leave,  beseech  you.    I  did  send, 
After  the  last  enchantment  you  did  here, 
A  ring  in  chase  of  you  ;  so  did  I  abuse  120 

Myself,  my  servant  and,  I  fear  me,  you : 
Under  your  hard  construction  must  I  sit. 
To  force  that  on  you,  in  a  shameful  cunning. 
Which  you  knew  none  of  yours :    what  might  you 

think? 
Have  you  not  set  mine  honour  at  the  stake 

69 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

And  baited  it  with  all  the  unmuzzled  thoughts 
That  tyrannous  heart  can  think?     To  one  of  your 

receiving 

Enough  is  shown  ;  a  cypress,  not  a  bosom, 
Hides  my  heart.    So,  let  me  hear  you  speak. 

Vio.  I  pity  you. 

Oli.  That's  a  degree  to  love.  130 

Vio.  No,  not  a  grize ;  for  'tis  a  vulgar  proof, 
That  very  oft  we  pity  enemies. 

Oli.  Why,  then,  methinks  'tis  time  to  smile  again. 

0  world,  how  apt  the  poor  are  to  be  proud  ! 
If  one  should  be  a  prey,  how  much  the  better 
To  fall  before  the  lion  than  the  wolf! 

[Clock  strikes. 

The  clock  upbraids  me  with  the  waste  of  time. 

Be  not  afraid,  good  youth,  I  will  not  have  you : 

And  yet,  when  wit  and  youth  is  come  to  harvest, 

Your  wife  is  like  to  reap  a  proper  man  ;  140 

Their  lies  your  way,  due  west. 
Vio.  Then  westward-ho! 

Grace  and  good  disposition  attend  your  ladyship ! 

You  '11  nothing,  madam,  to  my  lord  by  me  ? 
Oli.  Stay: 

1  prithee,  tell  me  what  thou  think'st  of  me. 
Vio.  That  you  do  think  you  are  not  what  you  are. 
Oli.  If  I  think  so,  I  think  the  same  of  you. 

Vio.  Then  think  you  right :  I  am  not  what  I  am. 

Oli.  I  would  you  were  as  I  would  have  you  be ! 

Vio.  Would  it  be  better,  madam,  than  I  am  ?  1 50 

I  wish  it  might,  for  now  I  am  your  fool. 
Oli.  O,  what  a  deal  of  scorn  looks  beautiful 

In  the  contempt  and  anger  of  his  lip ! 

70 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

A  murderous  guilt  shows  not  itself  more  soon 

Than  love  that  would  seem  hid :  love's  night  is  noon. 

Cesario,  by  the  roses  of  the  spring, 

By  maidhood,  honour,  truth  and  every  thing, 

I  love  thee  so,  that,  maugre  all  thy  pride, 

Nor  wit  nor  reason  can  my  passion  hide, 

Do  not  extort  thy  reasons  from  this  clause,  160 

For  that  I  woo,  thou  therefore  hast  no  cause ; 

But  rather  reason  thus  with  reason  fetter, 

Love  sought  is  good,  but  given  unsought  is  better. 

Vio.  By  innocence  I  swear,  and  by  my  youth, 
I  have  one  heart,  one  bosom  and  one  truth, 
And  that  no  woman  has  ;  nor  never  none 
Shall  mistress  be  of  it,  save  I  alone. 
And  so  adieu,  good  madam :  never  more 
Will  I  my  master's  tears  to  you  deplore. 

OIL  Yet  come  again  ;   for  thou  perhaps  mayst  move     170 
That  heart,  which  now  abhors,  to  like  his  love. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  II. 

Olivia's  house. 
Enter  Sir  Toby,  Sir  Andrew,  and  Fabian. 

Sir  And.  No,  faith,  I  '11  not  stay  a  jot  longer. 
Sir  To.  Thy  reason,  dear  venom,  give  thy  reason. 
Fab.  You  must  needs  yield  your  reason,  Sir  Andrew. 
Sir  And.  Marry,  I  saw  your  niece  do  more  favours  to 

the  count's  serving-man  than  ever  she  bestowed 

upon  me ;  I  saw  't  i'  the  orchard. 
Sir  To.  Did  she  see  thee  the  while,  old  boy  ?  tell  me 

that. 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT ; 

Sir  And.  As  plain  as  I  see  you  now. 

Fab.  This  was  a  great  argument  of  love  in  her  to-     10 
ward  you. 

Sir  And.  'Slight,  will  you  make  an  ass  o'  me? 

Fab.  I  will  prove  it  legitimate,  sir,  upon  the  oaths  of 
judgement  and  reason. 

Sir  To.  And  they  have  been  grand-jurymen  since 
before  Noah  was  a  sailor. 

Fab.  She  did  show  favour  to  the  youth  in  your  sight 
only  to  exasperate  you,  to  awake  your  dormouse 
valour,  to  put  fire  in  your  heart,  and  brimstone  in 
your  liver.  You  should  then  have  accosted  her ;  20 
and  with  some  excellent  jests,  fire-new  from  the 
mint,  you  should  have  banged  the  youth  into 
dumbness.  This  was  looked  for  at  your  hand, 
and  this  was  balked :  the  double  gilt  of  this 
opportunity  you  let  time  wash  off,  and  you  are 
now  sailed  into  the  north  of  my  lady's  opinion ; 
where  you  will  hang  like  an  icicle  on  a  Dutch- 
man's beard,  unless  you  do  redeem  it  by  some 
laudable  attempt  either  of  valour  or  policy. 

Sir  And.  An  't  be  any  way,  it  must  be  with  valour ;     30 
for  policy  I  hate :   I  had  as  lief  be  a  Brownist  as 
a  politician. 

Sir  To.  Why,  then,  build  me  thy  fortunes  upon  the 
basis  of  valour.  Challenge  me  the  count's 
youth  to  fight  with  him ;  hurt  him  in  eleven 
places :  my  niece  shall  take  note  of  it ;  and 
assure  thyself,  there  is  no  love-broker  in  the 
world  can  more  prevail  in  man's  commendation 
with  woman  than  report  of  valour. 

Fab.  There  is  no  way  but  this,  Sir  Andrew.  40 

72 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

Sir  And.  Will  either  of  you  bear  me  a  challenge  to 
him? 

Sir  To.  Go,  write  it  in  a  martial  hand ;  be  curst  and 
brief ;  it  is  no  matter  how  witty,  so  it  be  eloquent 
and  full  of  invention  :  taunt  him  with  the  license 
of  ink :  if  thou  thou  'st  him  some  thrice,  it  shall 
not  be  amiss ;  and  as  many  lies  as  will  lie  in 
thy  sheet  of  paper,  although  the  sheet  were  big 
enough  for  the  bed  of  Ware  in  England,  set  'em 
down  :  go,  about  it.  Let  there  be  gall  enough  in  50 
thy  ink,  though  thou  write  with  a  goose-pen,  no 
matter :  about  it. 

Sir  And.  Where  shall  I  find  you  ? 

Sir  To.  We  '11  call  thee  at  the  cubiculo :  go. 

[E.rit  S~ir  Andrew. 

Fab.  This  is  a  dear  manakin  to  you,  Sir  Toby. 

Sir  To.  I   have   been    dear   to   him,    lad,    some   two 
thousand  strong,  or  so. 

Fab.  Wre  shall  have  a   rare   letter   from  him :    but 
you  '11  not  deliver  't? 

Sir  To.  Never  trust  me,  then ;  and  by  all  means  60 
stir  on  the  youth  to  an  answer.  I  think  oxen 
and  wainropes  cannot  hale  them  together.  For 
Andrew,  if  he  were  opened,  and  you  find  so 
much  blood  in  his  liver  as  will  clog  the  foot  of  a 
flea,  I  '11  eat  the  rest  of  the  anatomy. 

Fab.  And  his  opposite,  the  youth,  bears  in  his  visage 
no  great  presage  of  cruelty. 

Enter  Maria. 

Sir  To.  Look,    where    the    youngest    wren    of    nine 
comes. 

73 


Act  III.  Sc.  Hi.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Mar.  If  you  desire  the  spleen,  and  will  laugh  your-  70 
selves  into  stitches,  follow  me.  Yond  gull 
Malvolio  is  turned  heathen,  a  very  renegado; 
for  there  is  no  Christian,  that  means  to  be  saved 
by  believing  rightly,  can  ever  believe  such  im- 
possible passages  of  grossness.  He  's  in  yellow 
stockings. 

Sir  To.  And  cross-gartered  ? 

Mar.  Most  villanously ;  like  a  pedant  that  keeps 
a  school  i'  the  church.  I  have  dogged  him, 
like  his  murderer.  He  does  obey  every  point  80 
of  the  letter  that  I  dropped  to  betray  him :  he 
does  smile  his  face  into  more  lines  than  is  in 
the  new  map  with  the  augmentation  of  the 
Indies :  you  have  not  seen  such  a  thing  as  'tis. 
I  can  hardly  forbear  hurling  things  at  him.  I 
know  my  lady  will  strike  him :  if  she  do,  he  '11 
smile  and  take  't  for  a  great  favour. 

Sir  To.  Come,  bring  us,  bring  us  where  he  is.         [Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

A  street. 
Enter  Sebastian  and  Antonio. 

Seb.  I  would  not  by  my  will  have  troubled  you ; 

But,  since  you  make  your  pleasure  of  your  pains, 
I  will  no  further  chide  you. 

Ant.  I  could  not  stay  behind  you:  my  desire, 

More  sharp  than  filed  steel,  did  spur  me  forth ; 
And  not  all  love  to  see  you,  though  so  much 
As  might  have  drawn  one  to  a  longer  voyage, 
But  jealousy  what  might  befall  your  travel, 

74 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  III.  Sc.  Hi. 

Being  skilless  in  these  parts ;  which  to  a  stranger, 
Unguided  and  unfriended,  often  prove  10 

Rough  and  unhospitable :  my  willing  love, 
The  rather  by  these  arguments  of  fear, 
Set  forth  in  your  pursuit. 

Seb.  My  kind  Antonio, 

I  can  no  other  answer  make  but  thanks, 
And  thanks ;  and  ever  [thanks,  and]  oft  good  turns 
Are  shuffled  off  with  such  uncurrent  pay : 
But,  were  my  worth  as  is  my  conscience  firm, 
You  should  find  better  dealing.    What 's  to  do  ? 
Shall  we  go  see  the  reliques  of  this  town  ? 

Ant.  To-morrow,  sir :  best  first  go  see  your  lodging.       20 

Seb.  I  am  not  weary,  and  'tis  long  to  night : 
I  pray  you,  let  us  satisfy  our  eyes 
With  the  memorials  and  the  things  of  fame 
That  do  renown  this  city. 

Ant.  Would  you  'Id  pardon  me  ; 

I  do  not  without  danger  walk  these  streets : 
Once,  in  a  sea-fight,  'gainst  the  count  his  galleys 
I  did  some  service ;  of  such  note  indeed, 
That  were  I  ta'en  here  it  would  scarce  be  answered. 

Seb.  Belike  you  slew  great  number  of  his  people. 

Ant.  The  offence  is  not  of  such  a  bloody  nature ;  30 

Albeit  the  quality  of  the  time  and  quarrel 
Might  well  have  given  us  bloody  argument. 
It  might  have  since  been  answer'd  in  repaying 
What  we  took  from  them ;  which,  for  traffic's  sake, 
Most  of  our  city  did  :  only  myself  stood  out ; 
For  which,  if  I  be  lapsed  in  this  place, 
I  shall  pay  dear. 

Seb.  Do  not  then  walk  too  open. 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Ant.  It  doth  not  fit  me.    Hold,  sir,  here  's  my  purse. 

In  the  south  suburbs,  at  the  Elephant, 

Is  best  to  lodge :   I  will  bespeak  our  diet,  40 

Whiles  you  beguile  the  time  and  feed  your  knowledge 

With  viewing  of  the  town :  there  shall  you  have  me. 
Seb.  Why  1  your  purse  ? 
Ant.  Haply  your  eye  shall  light  upon  some  toy 

You  have  desire  to  purchase ;  and  your  store, 

I  think,  is  not  for  idle  markets,  sir. 
Scb.  I  '11  be  your  purse-bearer  and  leave  you 

For  an  hour. 

Ant.  To  die  Elephant. 

Scb.  I  do  remember.    [E.rennt. 

Scene   IV. 

Olivia's  garden. 
Enter  Olivia  and  Maria. 

OH.  I  have  sent  after  him :  he  says  he  '11  come  : 

How  shall  I  feast  him  ?  what  bestow  of  him  ? 

For  youth  is  bought  more  oft  than  begg'd  or  bor- 
row'd. 

I  speak  too  loud. 

Where  is  Malvolio  ?  he  is  sad  and  civil, 

And  suits  well  for  a  servant  with  my  fortunes : 

Where  is  Malvolio  ? 
Mar.  He 's  coming,  madam ;    but  in  very   strange 

manner.    He  is,  sure,  possessed,  madam. 
OH.  Why,  what 's  the  matter?  does  he  rave?  10 

Mar.  No,  madam,  he  does  nothing  but  smile:   your 

ladyship  were  best  to  have  some  guard  about 

you,  if  he  come;    for,  sure,  the  man  is  tainted 

in  's  wits. 

76 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

OH.  Go  call  him  hither.    [Exit  Maria.}    I  am  as  mad 

as  he, 
If  sad  and  merry  madness  equal  be. 

Re-enter  Maria,  with  Malvolio. 

How  now,  Malvolio ! 

MaL  Sweet  lady,  ho,  ho. 

OH.  Smilest  thou  ? 

I  sent  for  thee  upon  a  sad  occasion.  20 

Mai.  Sad,  lady  ?  I  could  be  sad :  this  does  make 
some  obstruction  in  the  blood,-  this  cross- 
gartering';  but  what  of  that?  if  it  please  the 
eye  of  one,  it  is  with  me  as  the  very  true  sonnet 
is,  '  Please  one,  and  please  all.' 

OH.  Why,  how  dost  thou,  man?  what  is  the  matter 
with  thee  ? 

Mai.  Not  black  in  my  mind,  though  yellow  in  my 
legs.     It  did  come  to  his  hands,  and  commands 
shall   be   executed :     I   think   we   do   know   the     30 
sweet  Roman  hand. 

OIL  Wilt  thou  go  to  bed,  Malvolio? 

Mai.  To  bed !  ay,  sweet-heart,  and  I  '11  come  to 
thee. 

OIL  God  comfort  thee!  Why  dost  thou  smile  so 
and  kiss  thy  hand  so  oft  ? 

Mar.  How  do  you,  Malvolio  ? 

MaL  At  your  request !  yes ;  nightingales  answer 
daws. 

Mar.  Why  appear  you  with  this  ridiculous  boldness     40 
before  my  lady  ? 

MaL  '  Be  not  afraid  of  greatness  ' :  'twas  well  writ. 

OIL  What  meanest  thou  by  that,  Malvolio  ? 

77 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Mai.  '  Some  are  born  great/ — 

OH.  Ha! 

Mai.  '  Some  achieve  greatness,' — 

OH.  What  sayest  thou  ? 

Mai.  '  And  some  have  greatness  thrust  upon  them.' 

OH.  Heaven  restore  thee ! 

Mai.  '  Remember     who     commended     thy     yellow     50 

stockings/ — 

OH.  Thy  yellow  stockings ! 
Mai.  '  And  wished  to  see  thee  cross-gartered/ 
OH.  Cross-gartered! 
Mai.  '  Go  to,  thou  art  made,  if  thou  desirest  to  be 

so';— 

OH.  Am  I  made? 

Mai.  '  If  not,  let  me  see  thee  a  servant  still.' 
OH.  Why,  this  is  very  midsummer  madness. 

Enter  servant. 

Ser.  Madam,   the   young  gentleman   of   the   Count     60 
Orsino's    is    returned:     I    could    hardly    en- 
treat   him    back:     he    attends    your    ladyship's 
pleasure. 

OH.  I  '11  come  to  him.  [Exit  Servant.]  Good 
Maria,  let  this  fellow  be  looked  to.  Where's 
my  cousin  Toby?  Let  some  of  my  people 
have  a  special  care  of  him :  I  would  not  have 
him  miscarry  for  the  half  of  my  dowry. 

[Exeunt  Olivia  and  Maria. 

Mai.  O,  ho !   do  you  come  near  me  now  ?  no  worse 

man  than  Sir  Toby  to  look  to  me !    This  concurs     70 
directly  with  the  letter :  she  sends  him  on  purpose, 
that  I  may  appear  stubborn  to  him ;  for  she  incites 

78 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

me  to  that  in  the  letter.  '  Cast  thy  humble  slough,' 
says  she ;  '  be  opposite  with  a  kinsman,  surly 
with  servants ;  let  thy  tongue  tang  with  argu- 
ments of  state ;  put  thyself  into  the  trick  of 
singularity ; '  and  consequently  sets  down  the 
manner  how ;  as,  a  sad  face,  a  reverend  carriage, 
a  slow  tongue,  in  the  habit  of  some  sir  of  note, 
and  so  forth.  I  have  limed  her ;  but  it  is  Jove's  80 
doing,  and  Jove  make  me  thankful !  And  when 
she  went  away  now,  '  Let  this  fellow  be  looked 
to : '  fellow !  not  Malvolio,  nor  after  my  degree, 
but  fellow.  Why,  every  thing  adheres  together, 
that  no  dram  of  a  scruple,  no  scruple  of  a  scruple, 
no  obstacle,no  incredulous  or  unsafe  circumstance 
— What  can  be  said?  Nothing  that  can  be  can 
come  between  me  and  the  full  prospect  of  my 
hopes.  Well,  Jove,  not  I,  is  the  doer  of  this, 
and  he  is  to  be  thanked.  90 

Re-enter  Maria,  with  Sir  Toby  and  Fabian. 

Sir  To.  Which  way  is  he,  in  the  name  of  sanctity  ? 
If  all  the  devils  of  hell  be  drawn  in  little,  and 
Legion  himself  possessed  him,  yet  I  '11  speak  to 
him. 

Fab.  Here  he  is,  here  he  is.  How  is  't  with  you,  sir  ? 
how  is  't  with  you,  man  ? 

Mai.  Go  off ;  I  discard  you:  let  me  enjoy  my  pri- 
vate :  go  off. 

Mar.  Lo,  how  hollow  the  fiend  speaks  within  him ! 

did  not  I  tell  you?     Sir  Toby,  my  lady  prays  100 
you  to  have  a  care  of  him. 

Mai.  Ah,  ha !  does  she  so  ? 

79 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Sir  To.  Go  to,  go  to ;  peace,  peace ;  we  must  deal 
gently  with  him ;  let  me  alone.  How  do  you, 
Malvolio  ?  how  is  't  with  you  ?  What,  man ! 
defy  the  devil :  consider,  he 's  an  enemy  to 
mankind. 

Mai.  Do  you  know  what  you  say  ? 

Mar.  La  you,  an  you  speak  ill  of  the  devil,  how  he 

takes  it  at  heart!     Pray  God,  he  be  not  be-  no 
witched ! 

Fab.  Carry  his  water  to  the  wise  woman. 

Mar.  Marry,  and  it  shall  be  done  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, if  I  live.  My  lady  would  not  lose  him  for 
more  than  I  '11  say. 

Mai.  How  now,  mistress ! 

Mar.  O  Lord ! 

Sir  To.  Prithee,  hold  thy  peace ;  this  is  not  the  way  : 
do  you  not  see  you  move  him?  let  me  alone 
with  him.  120 

Fab.  No  way  but  gentleness ;  gently,  gently :  the 
fiend  is  rough,  and  will  not  be  roughly  used. 

Sir  To.  Why,  how  now,  my  bawcock !  how  dost 
thou,  chuck? 

Mai.  Sir! 

Sir  To.  Ay,  Biddy,  come  with  me.  What,  man !  'tis 
not  for  gravity  to  play  at  cherry-pit  with  Satan : 
hang  him,  foul  collier ! 

Mar.  Get  him  to  say  his  prayers,  good  Sir  Toby,  get 

him  to  pray.  130 

Mai.  My  prayers,  minx ! 

Mar.  No,  I  warrant  you,  he  will  not  hear  of  godli- 
ness. 

Mai.  Go,  hang  yourselves  all!    you  are  idle  shallow 

80 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

things:    I  am  not   of   your   element:    you  shall 
know  more  hereafter.  [Exit. 

Sir  To.  Is  't  possible  ? 

Fab.  If  this  were  played  upon  a  stage  now,  I  could 
condemn  it  as  an  improbable  fiction. 

Sir  To.  His  very  genius  hath  taken  the  infection  of  140 
the  device,  man. 

Mar.  Nay,  pursue  him  now,  lest  the  device  take  air 
and  taint. 

Fab.  Why,  we  shall  make  him  mad  indeed. 

Mar.  The  house  will  be  the  quieter. 

Sir  To.  Come,  we  '11  have  him  in  a  dark  room  and 
bound.  My  niece  is  already  in  the  belief  that 
he  's  mad :  we  may  carry  it  thus,  for  our  pleas- 
ure and  his  penance,  till  our  very  pastime,  tired 
out  of  breath,  prompt  us  to  have  mercy  on  him :  1 50 
at  which  time  we  will  bring  the  device  to  the  bar 
and  crown  thee  for  a  finder  of  madmen.  But 
see,  but  see. 

Enter  Sir  Andrew. 

Fab,  More  matter  for  a  May  morning. 

Sir  And.  Here  's  the  challenge,  read  it :    I  warrant 

there  's  vinegar  and  pepper  in  't. 
Fab.  Is  't  so  saucy  ? 

Sir  And.  Ay,  is  't,  I  warrant  him :  do  but  read. 
Sir  To.  Give  me.     [Reads]     Youth,  whatsoever  thou 

art,  thou  art  but  a  scurvy  fellow.  160 

Fab.  Good,  and  valiant. 
Sir  To.    [Reads]   Wonder  not,  nor  admire  not  in  thy 

mind,  why  I  do  call  thee  so,  for  I  will  show 

thee  no  reason  for  't. 

81 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Fab.  A  good  note ;  that  keeps  you  from  the  blow  of 
the  law. 

Sir  To.  [Reads]  Thou  comest  to  the  lady  Olivia,  and 
in  my  sight  she  uses  thee  kindly :  but  thou  liest 
in  thy  throat ;  that  is  not  the  matter  I  challenge 
thee  for.  170 

Fab.  Very  brief,  and  to  exceeding  good  sense — less. 

Sir  To.  [Reads]  I  will  waylay  thee  going  home; 
where  if  it  be  thy  chance  to  kill  me, — 

Fab.  Good. 

Sir  To.  [Reads]  Thou  killest  me  like  a  rogue  and  a 
villain. 

Fab.  Still  you  keep  o'  the  windy  side  of  the  law : 
good. 

Sir  To.  [Reads]  Fare  thee  well ;  and  God  have  mercy 

upon  one  of  our  souls !  He  may  have  mercy  180 
upon  mine ;  but  my  hope  is  better,  and  so 
look  to  thyself.  Thy  friend,  as  thou  usest  him, 
and  thy  sworn  enemy,  ANDREW  AGUECHEEK. 
If  this  letter  move  him  not,  his  legs  cannot : 
I  '11  give  't  him. 

Mar.  You  may  have  very  fit  occasion  for  't :  he  is 
now  in  some  commerce  with  my  lady,  and  will 
by  and  by  depart. 

Sir  To.  Go,  Sir  Andrew ;    scout  me  for  him  at  the 

corner  of  the  orchard  like  a  bum-baily :  so  soon  190 
as  ever  thou  seest  him,  draw ;  and,  as  thou 
drawest,  swear  horrible ;  for  it  comes  to  pass 
oft  that  a  terrible  oath,  with  a  swaggering  accent 
sharply  twanged  off,  gives  manhood  more  ap- 
probation than  ever  proof  itself  would  have 
earned  him.  Away! 

82 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

Sir  And.  Nay,  let  me  alone  for  swearing.  [E.rit. 

Sir  To.  Now  will  not  I  deliver  his  letter :  for  the 
behaviour  of  the  young  gentleman  gives  him  out 
to  be  of  good  capacity  and  breeding ;  his  em-  200 
ployment  between  his  lord  and  my  niece  con- 
firms no  less :  therefore  this  letter,  being  so  ex- 
cellently ignorant,  will  breed  no  terror  in  the 
youth :  he  will  find  it  comes  from  a  clodpole. 
But,  sir,  I  will  deliver  his  challenge  by  word  of 
mouth ;  set  upon  Aguecheek  a  notable  report  of 
valour;  and  drive  the  gentleman,  as  I  know  his 
youth  will  aptly  receive  it,  into  a  most  hideous 
opinion  of  his  rage,  skill,  fury  and  impetuosity. 
This  will  so  fright  them  both,  that  they  will  kill  210 
one  another  by  the  look,  like  cockatrices. 

Re-enter  Olivia,  with  Viola. 

Fab.  Here  he   comes   with   your  niece :    give   them 

way    till    he    take    leave,    and    presently    after 

him. 
Sir  To.  I  will  meditate  the  while  upon  some  horrid 

message  for  a  challenge. 

[Exeunt  Sir  Toby,  Fabian,  and  Maria. 
OIL  I  have  said  too  much  unto  a  heart  of  stone, 

And  laid  mine  honour  too  unchary  out : 

There  's  something  in  me  that  reproves  my  fault ; 

But  such  a  headstrong  potent  fault  it  is,  220 

That  it  but  mocks  reproof. 
Vio.  With  the  same  'haviour  that  your  passion  bears 

Goes  on  my  master's  grief. 
OH.  Here,  wear  this  jewel  for  me,  'tis  my  picture; 

Refuse  it  not ;  it  hath  no  tongue  to  vex  you ; 

83 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

And  I  beseech  you  come  again  to-morrow. 

What  shall  you  ask  of  me  that  I  '11  deny, 

That  honour  saved  may  upon  asking  give  ? 
Vio.  Nothing  but  this ; — your  true  love  for  my  master. 
OH.  How  with  mine  honour  may  I  give  him  that          230 

Which  I  have  given  to  you  ? 

Vio.  I  will  acquit  you. 

Oli.  Well,  come  again  to-morrow :   fare  thee  well : 

A  fiend  like  thee  might  bear  my  soul  to  hell.     [Exit. 

Re-enter  Sir  Toby  and  Fabian. 

Sir  To.  Gentleman,  God  save  thee. 

Vio.  And  you,  sir. 

Sir  To.  That  defence  thou  hast,  betake  thee  to  't : 
of  what  nature  the  wrongs  are  thou  hast  done 
him  I  know  not ;  but  thy  intercepter,  full  of 
despite,  bloody  as  the  hunter,  attends  thee  at  the 
orchard-end :  dismount  thy  tuck,  be  yare  in  thy  240 
preparation,  for  thy  assailant  is  quick,  skilful 
and  deadly. 

Vio.  You  mistake,  sir ;  I  am  sure  no  man  hath  any 
quarrel  to  me:  my  remembrance  is  very  free 
and  clear  from  any  image  of  offence  done  to  any 
man. 

Sir  To.  You  '11  find  it  otherwise,  I  assure  you :  there- 
fore, if  you  hold  your  life  at  any  price,  betake 
you  to  your  guard;    for  your  opposite  hath  in 
him  what  youth,  strength,  skill  and  wrath  can  2*50 
furnish  man  withal. 

Vio.  I  pray  you,  sir,  what  is  he? 

Sir  To.  He  is  knight,  dubbed  with  unhatched  rapier 
and  on  carpet  consideration ;  but  he  is  a  devil  in 

84 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

private  brawl :  souls  and  bodies  hath  he  divorced 
three ;  and  his  incensement  at  this  moment  is  so 
implacable,  that  satisfaction  can  be  none  but  by 
pangs  of  death  and  sepulchre.  Hob,  nob,  is  his 
word ;  give  't  or  take  't. 

Vio.  I  will  return  again  into  the  house  and  desire  260 
some  conduct  of  the  lady.     I  am  no  fighter.     I 
have  heard  of  some  kind  of  men  that  put  quar- 
rels purposely  on  others,  to  taste  their  valour : 
belike  this  is  a  man  of  that  quirk. 

Sir  To.  Sir,  no ;  his  indignation  derives  itself  out  of 
a  very  competent  injury:  therefore,  get  you  on 
and  give  him  his  desire.  Back  you  shall  not  to 
the  house,  unless  you  undertake  that  with  me 
which  with  as  much  safety  you  might  answer 
him:  therefore,  on,  or  strip  your  sword  stark  270 
naked ;  for  meddle  you  must,  that 's  certain,  or 
forswear  to  wear  iron  about  you. 

Vio.  This  is  as  uncivil  as  strange.  I  beseech  you, 
do  me  this  courteous  office,  as  to  know  of  the 
knight  what  my  offence  to  him  is :  it  is  some- 
thing of  my  negligence,  nothing  of  my  purpose. 

Sir  To.  I  will  do  so.     Signior  Fabian,  stay  you  by 

this  gentleman  till  my  return.  [Exit. 

Vio.  Pray  you,  sir,  do  you  know  of  this  matter  ? 

Fab.  I  know  the  knight  is  incensed  against  you,  even  280 
to  a  mortal   arbitrement ;    but  nothing   of   the 
circumstance  more. 

Vio.  I  beseech  you,  what  manner  of  man  is  he  ? 

Fab.  Nothing  of  that  wonderful  promise,  to  read 
him  by  his  form,  as  you  are  like  to  find  him  in 
the  proof  of  his  valour.  He  is,  indeed,  sir,  the 

85 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH   NIGHT; 

most  skilful,  bloody  and  fatal  opposite  that  you 
could  possibly  have  found  in  any  part  of  Illyria. 
Will  you  walk  towards  him?  I  will  make  your 
peace  with  him  if  I  can.  290 

Vio.  I  shall  be  much  bound  to  you  for  't :  I  am  one 
that  had  rather  go  with  sir  priest  than  sir 
knight :  I  care  not  who  knows  so  much  of  my 
mettle.  [Exeunt. 

Re-enter  Sir  Toby,  u'ith  Sir  Andrew. 

Sir  To.  Why,  man,  he  's  a  very  devil ;  I  have  not 
seen  such  a  firago.  I  had  a  pass  with  him,  rapier, 
scabbard  and  all,  and  he  gives  me  the  stuck  in 
with  such  a  mortal  motion,  that  it  is  inevitable ; 
and  on  the  answer,  he  pays  you  as  surely  as 
your  feet  hit  the  ground  they  step  on.  They  300 
say  he  has  been  fencer  to  the  Sophy. 

Sir  And.  Pox  on  't,  I  '11  not  meddle  with  him. 

Sir  To.  Ay,  but  he  will  not  now  be  pacified :  Fabian 
can  scarce  hold  him  yonder. 

Sir  And.  Plague  on  't,  an  I  thought  he  had  been 
valiant  and  so  cunning  in  fence,  I  'Id  have  seen 
him  damned  ere  I  'Id  have  challenged  him.  Let 
him  let  the  matter  slip,  and  I  '11  give  him  my 
horse,  grey  Capilet. 

Sir  To.  I'll  make  the  motion:    stand  here,  make  a  310 
good   show   on  't :    this   shall   end   without   the 
perdition  of  souls.     [Aside]     Marry,  I  '11  ride 
your  horse  as  well  as  I  ride  you. 

Re-enter  Fabian  and  Viola. 

[To  Fab.]  I  have  his  horse  to  take  up  the  quarrel :  I 
have  persuaded  him  the  youth  's  a  devil. 

86 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

Fab.  He  is  as  horribly  conceited  of  him ;  and  pants 
and  looks  pale,  as  if  a  bear  were  at  his  heels. 

Sir  To.  [  To  Vio.  ]  There  's  no  remedy,  sir ;  he  will 
fight  with  you  for  's  oath  sake :  marry,  he  hath 
better  bethought  him  of  his  quarrel,  and  he  320 
finds  that  now  scarce  to  be  worth  talking  of: 
therefore  draw,  for  the  supportance  of  his  vow ; 
he  protests  he  will  not  hurt  you. 

Vio.  [aside}  Pray  God  defend  me!  a  little  thing 
would  make  me  tell  them  how  much  I  lack  of  a 
man. 

Fab.  Give  ground,  if  you  see  him  furious. 

Sir  To.  Come,  Sir  Andrew,  there  's  no  remedy ;  the 
gentleman  will,  for  his  honour's  sake,  have  one 
bout  with  you;  he  cannot  by  the  duello  avoid 
it :  but  he  has  promised  me,  as  he  is  a  gentleman  330 
and  a  soldier,  he  will  not  hurt  you.  Come  on ; 
to't. 

Sir  And.  Pray  God,  he  keep  his  oath ! 

Vio.  I  do  assure  you,  'tis  against  my  will.        [  They  draw. 

Enter  Antonio. 

Ant.  Put  up  your  sword.    If  this  young  gentleman 
Have  done  offence,  I  take  the  fault  on  me : 
If  you  offend  him,  I  for  him  defy  you. 
Sir  To.  You,  sir !   why,  what  are  you  ? 
Ant.  One,  sir,  that  for  his  love  dares  yet  do  more 

Than  you  have  heard  him  brag  to  you  he  will.        340 
Sir  To.  Nay,  if  you  be  an  undertaker,  I  am  for  you. 

[They  draw. 
Enter  Officers. 

Fab.  O  good  Sir  Toby,  hold !  here  come  the  officers. 
Sir  To.  I  '11  be  with  you  anon. 

87 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Vio.  Pray,  sir,  put  your  sword  up,  if  you  please. 
Sir  And.  Marry,  will  I,  sir;  and,  for  that  I  promised 

you,  I  '11  be  as  good  as  my  word :   he  will  bear 

you  easily  and  reins  well. 
First  Off.  This  is  the  man  ;   do  thy  office, 
Sec.  Off.  Antonio,  I  arrest  thee  at  the  suit  of  Count 

Orsino.  350 

Ant.  You  do  mistake  me,  sir. 
First  Off.  No,  sir,  no  jot;  I  know  your  favour  well, 

Though  now  you  have  no  sea-cap  on  your  head. 

Take  him  away :  he  knows  I  know  him  well. 
Ant.  I  must  obey.     [To  Vio.}     This  comes  with  seeking 

you: 

But  there  's  no  remedy ;  I  shall  answer  it. 

What  will  you  do,  now  my  necessity 

Makes  me  to  ask  you  for  my  purse  ?    It  grieves  me 

Much  more  for  what  I  cannot  do  for  you 

Than  what  befalls  myself.     You  stand  amazed ;     360 

But  be  of  comfort. 

Sec.  Off.  Come,  sir,  away. 

Ant.  I  must  entreat  of  you  some  of  that  money. 

Vio.  What  money,  sir? 

For  the  fair  kindness  you  have  show'd  me  here, 
And,  part,  being  prompted  by  your  present  trouble, 
Out  of  my  lean  and  low  ability 
I  '11  lend  you  something :  my  having  is  not  much ; 
I  '11  make  division  of  my  present  with  you : 
Hold,  there  's  half  my  coffer. 

Ant.  Will  you  deny  me  now?  370 

Is  't  possible  that  my  deserts  to  you 
Can  lack  persuasion  ?    Do  not  tempt  my  misery, 
Lest  that  it  make  me  so  unsound  a  man 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

As  to  upbraid  you  with  those  kindnesses 

That  I  have  done  for  you. 
Vio.  I  know  of  none ; 

Nor  know  I  you  by  voice  or  any  feature : 

I  hate  ingratitude  more  in  a  man 

Than  lying  vainness,  babbling  drunkenness, 

Or  any  taint  of  vice  whose  strong  corruption 

Inhabits  our  frail  blood. 

Ant.  O  heavens  themselves !     380 

Sec.  Off.  Come,  sir,  I  pray  you,  go. 
Ant.  Let  me  speak  a  little.     This  youth  that  you  see  here 

I  snatch'd  one  half  out  of  the  jaws  of  death ; 

Relieved  him  with  such  sanctity  of  love ; 

And  to  his  image,  which  methought  did  promise 

Most  venerable  worth,  did  I  devotion. 
First  Off.  What 's  that  to  us !     The  time  goes  by :  away ! 
Ant.  But  O  how  vile  an  idol  proves  this  god! 

Thou  hast,  Sebastian,  done  good  feature  shame. 

In  nature  there  's  no  blemish  but  the  mind ;  390 

None  can  be  call'd  deform'd  but  the  unkind : 

Virtue  is  beauty ;  but  the  beauteous  evil 

Are  empty  trunks,  o'erflourish'd  by  the  devil. 
First  Off.  The  man  grows  mad:  away  with  him!   Come, 

come,  sir. 

Ant.  Lead  me  on.  [Exit  zvith  Officers. 

Vio.  Methinks  his  words  do  from  such  passion  fly, 

That  he  believes  himself :   so  do  not  I. 

Prove  true,  imagination,  O  prove  true, 

That  I,  dear  brother,  be  now  ta'en  for  you ! 
Sir  To.  Come  hither,  knight ;    come  hither,  Fabian :  400 

we  '11  whisper  o'er  a  couplet  or  two  of  most  sage 

saws. 

89 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Vio.  He  named  Sebastian :   I  my  brother  know 
Yet  living  in  my  glass ;  even  such  and  so 
In  favour  was  my  brother,  and  he  went 
Still  in  this  fashion,  colour,  ornament, 
For  him  I  imitate :  O,  if  it  prove 
Tempests  are  kind  and  salt  waves  fresh  in  love ! 

[Exit. 

Sir  To.  A   very   dishonest  paltry  boy,   and   more  a 

coward  than  a  hare:   his  dishonesty  appears  in  410 
leaving  his  friend  here  in  necessity  and  denying 
him ;   and  for  his  cowardship,  ask  Fabian. 

Fab.  A  coward,   a  .most   devout   coward,    religious 
in  it. 

Sir  And.  'Slid,  I  '11  after  him  again  and  beat  him. 

Sir  To.  Do ;    cuff  him  soundly,  but  never  draw  thy 
sword. 

Sir  And.  An  I  do  not, —  [Exit. 

Fab.  Come,  let 's  see  the  event. 

Sir  To.  I  dare  lay  any  money  'twill  be  nothing  yet.      420 

[Exeunt. 

ACT  FOURTH. 
Scene  I. 

Before  Olivia's  house. 
Enter  Sebastian  and  Clown. 

Clo.  Will  you  make  me  believe  that  I  am  not  sent 

for  you? 
Seb.  Go  to,  go  to,  thou  art  a  foolish  fellow : 

Let  me  be  clear  of  thee. 
Clo.  Well  held  out,  i'  faith!     No,  T  do  not  know 

90 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

you ;  nor  I  am  not  sent  to  you  by  my  lady,  to 
bid  you  come  speak  with  her;  nor  your  name 
is  not  Master  Cesario;  nor  this  is  not  my  nose 
neither.  Nothing  that  is  so  is  so. 

Seb.  I  prithee,  vent  thy  folly  somewhere  else :  10 

Thou  know'st  not  me. 

Clo.  Vent  my  folly !  he  has  heard  that  word  of  some 
great  man  and  now  applies  it  to  a  fool.  Vent 
my  folly!  I  am  afraid  this  great  lubber,  the 
world,  will  prove  a  cockney.  I  prithee  now, 
ungird  thy  strangeness  and  tell  me  what  I  shall 
vent  to  my  lady :  shall  I  vent  to  her  that  thou 
art  coming  ? 

Seb.  I  prithee,  foolish  Greek,  depart  from  me : 

There  's  money  for  thee :    if  you  tarry  longer,     20 
I  shall  give  worse  payment. 

Clo.  By  my  troth,  thou  hast  an  open  hand.  These 
wise  men  that  give  fools  money  get  themselves 
a  good  report — after  fourteen  years'  purchase. 

Enter  Sir  Andrew,  Sir  Toby,  and  Fabian. 

Sir  And.  Now,  sir,  have  I  met  you  again  ?    there  's 

for  you. 
Seb.  Why,  there  's  for  thee,  and  there,  and  there. 

Are  all  the  people  mad  ? 
Sir  To.  Hold,  sir,  or  I  '11  throw  your  dagger  o'er     30 

the  house. 
Clo.  This  will  I  tell  my  lady  straight :    I  would  not 

be  in  some  of  your  coats  for  two  pence.  {Exit. 

Sir  To.  Come  on,  sir ;  hold. 
Sir  And.  Nay,  let  him  alone :    I  '11  go  another  way 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

to  work  with  him ;  I  '11  have  an  action  of  bat- 
tery against  him,  if  there  be  any  law  in  Illyria: 
though  I  struck  him  first,  yet  it 's  no  matter  for 
that. 

Seb.  Let  go  thy  hand.  40 

Sir  To.  Come,   sir,   I   will  not  let  you  go.     Come, 

my  young  soldier,  put  up  your  iron:    you  are 

well  fleshed ;  come  on. 
Seb.  I  will  be  free  from  thee.     What  wouldst  thou  now  ? 

If  thou  darest  tempt  me  further,  draw  thy  sword. 
Sir  To.  What,   what  ?     Nay,  then   I  must  have  an 

ounce  or  two  of  this  malapert  blood  from  you. 

Enter  Olivia. 

OH.  Hold,  Toby ;  on  thy  life,  I  charge  thee,  hold ! 

Sir  To.  Madam ! 

OIL  Will  it  be  ever  thus  ?     Ungracious  wretch,  50 

Fit  for  the  mountains  and  the  barbarous  caves, 
Where  manners  ne'er  were  |  preach'd !  out  of  my  sight ! 
Be  not  offended,  dear  Cesario. 
Rudesby,  be  gone ! 

[Exeunt  Sir  Toby,  Sir  Andrew  and  Fabian. 

I  prithee,  gentle  friend, 
Let  thy  fair  wisdom,  not  thy  passion,  sway 
In  this  uncivil  and  unjust  extent 
Against  thy  peace.     Go  with  me  to  my  house ; 
And  hear  thou  there  how  many  fruitless  pranks 
This  ruffian  hath  botch'd  up,  that  thou  thereby 
Mayst  smile  at  this :  thou  shalt  not  choose  but  go :  60 
Do  not  deny.     Beshrew  his  soul  for  me, 
He  started  one  poor  heart  of  mine  in  thee. 

Seb.  What  relish  is  in  this  ?  how  runs  the  stream  ? 

92 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

Or  I  am  mad,  or  else  this  is  a  dream : 
Let  fancy  still  my  sense  in  Lethe  steep ; 
If  it  be  thus  to  dream,  still  let  me  sleep ! 

OIL  Nay,  come,  I  prithee :  would  thou  'Idst  be  |  ruled  by  me ! 

Seb.  Madam,  I  will. 

OIL  O,  say  so,  and  so  be !  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II. 

Olivia's  house. 
Enter  Maria  and  Clown. 

Mar.  Nay,  I  prithee,  put  on  this  gown  and  this 
beard;  make  him  believe  thou  art  Sir  Topas 
the  curate :  do  it  quickly ;  I  '11  call  Sir  Toby 
the  whilst.  [Exit. 

Clo.  Well,  I  '11  put  it  on,  and  I  will  dissemble  myself 
in  't ;  and  I  would  I  were  the  first  that  ever  dis- 
sembled in  such  a  gown.  I  am  not  tall  enough 
to  become  the  function  well,  nor  lean  enough 
to  be  thought  a  good  student ;  but  to  be  said  an 
honest  man  and  a  good  housekeeper  goes  as  10 
fairly  as  to  say  a  careful  man  and  a  great 
scholar.  The  competitors  enter. 

Enter  Sir  Toby  and  Maria. 

Sir  To.  Jove  bless  thee,  master  Parson. 

Clo.  Bonos  dies,  Sir  Toby :  for,  as  the  old  hermit  of 
Prague,  that  never  saw  pen  and  ink,  very  wit- 
tily said  to  a  niece  of  King  Gorboduc,  '  That  that 
is  is ' ;  so  I,  being  master  Parson,  am  master 
Parson  ;  for,  what  is  '  that '  but  '  that,'  and  'is  ' 
but 'is'? 

93 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Sir  To.  To  him,  Sir  Topas.  20 

Clo.  What,  ho,  I  say !   peace  in  this  prison ! 

Sir  To.  The  knave  counterfeits  well ;  a  good  knave. 

Mai.   [within]   Who  calls  there? 

Clo.  Sir  Topas  the  curate,  who  comes  to  visit  Mal- 
volio  the  lunatic. 

Mai.  Sir  Topas,  Sir  Topas,  good  Sir  Topas,  go  to 
my  lady. 

Clo.  Out,  hyperbolical  fiend !  how  vexest  thou  this 
man  !  talkest  thou  nothing  but  of  ladies  ? 

Sir  To.  Well  said,  master  Parson.  30 

Mai.  Sir  Topas,  never  was  man  thus  wronged: 
good  Sir  Topas,  do  not  think  I  am  mad :  they 
have  laid  me  here  in  hideous  darkness. 

Clo.  Fie,  thou  dishonest  Satan !  I  call  thee  by  the 
most  modest  terms ;  for  I  am  one  of  those  gentle 
ones  that  will  use  the  devil  himself  with  cour- 
tesy :  sayest  thou  that  house  is  dark  ? 

Mai.  As  hell,  Sir  Topas. 

Clo.  Why,  it  hath  bay  windows  transparent  as  barri- 

cadoes,   and  the  clearstories  toward  the  south    40 
north  are  as  lustrous  as  ebony ;    and  yet  corn- 
plainest  thou  of  obstruction? 

Mai.  I  am  not  mad,  Sir  Topas :  I  say  to  you,  this 
house  is  dark. 

Clo.  Madman,  thou  errest:  I  say,  there  is  no  dark- 
ness but  ignorance ;  in  which  thou  art  more 
puzzled  than  the  Egyptians  in  their  fog. 

Mai.  I  say,  this  house  is  as  dark  as  ignorance,  though 
ignorance  were  as  dark  as  hell ;  and  I  say,  there 
was  never  man  thus  abused.     I  am  no  more  mad     50 
than  you  are :  make  the  trial  of  it  in  any  constant 
question. 

94 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

Clo,  What  is  the  opinion  of  Pythagoras  concerning 
wild  fowl  ? 

Mai.  That  the  soul  of  our  grandam  might  haply  in- 
habit a  bird. 

Clo.  What  thinkest  thou  of  his  opinion  ? 

Mai.  I  think  nobly  of  the  soul,  and 'no  way  approve 
his  opinion. 

Clo.  Fare  thee  well.     Remain  thou  still  in  darkness : 

thou  shalt  hold  the  opinion  of  Pythagoras  ere  I     60 
will  allow  of  thy  wits ;   and  fear  to  kill  a  wood- 
cock, lest  thou  dispossess  the  soul  of  thy  gran- 
dam.    Fare  thee  well. 

Mai.  Sir  Topas,  Sir  Topas ! 

Sir  To.  My  most  exquisite  Sir  Topas! 

Clo.  Nay,  I  am  for  all  waters. 

Mar.  Thou  mightst  have  done  this  without  thy  beard 
and  gown :  he  sees  thee  not. 

Sir  To.  To  him  in  thine  own  voice,  and  bring  me 

word  how  thou  findest  him :  I  would  we  were  70 
well  rid  of  this  knavery.  If  he  may  be  con- 
veniently delivered,  I  would  he  were ;  for  I  am 
now  so  far  in  offence  with  my  niece,  that  I  can- 
not pursue  with  any  safety  this  sport  to  the  up- 
shot. Come  by  and  by  to  my  chamber. 

{Exeunt  Sir  Toby  and  Maria. 

Clo.    [Singing]   Hey,  Robin,  jolly  Robin, 

Tell  me  how  thy  lady  does. 

Mai.  Fool,— 

Clo.  My  lady  is  unkind,  perdy. 

Mai.  Fool  —  80 

Clo.  Alas,  why  is  she  so? 

Mai.  Fool,  I  say, — 

95 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT ; 

Clo.  She  loves  another — Who  calls,  ha  ? 

Mai.  Good  fool,  as  ever  thou  wilt  deserve  well  at  my 

hand,  help  me  to  a  candle,  and  pen,  ink  and 

paper:    as  I  am  a  gentleman,  I  will  live  to  be 

thankful  to  thee  for  't. 
Clo.  Master  Malvolio! 
Mai.  Ay,  good  fool. 

Clo.  Alas,  sir,  how  fell  you  besides  your  five  wits?        90 
Mai.  Fool,  there  was  never  man  so  notoriously  abused : 

I  am  as  well  in  my  wits,  fool,  as  thou  art. 
Clo.  But  as  well  ?  then  you  are  mad  indeed,  if  you  be 

no  better  in  your  wits  than  a  fool. 
Mai.  They  have  here  propertied  me;    keep  me  in 

darkness,  send  ministers  to  me,  asses,  and  do  all 

they  can  to  face  me  out  of  my  wits. 
Clo.  Advise  you  what  you  say ;  the  minister  is  here. 

Malvolio,    Malvolio,   thy  wits  the   heavens   re- 
store !   endeavour  thyself  to  sleep,  and  leave  thy  100 

vain  bibble  babble. 
Mai.  Sir  Topas, — 
Clo.  Maintain   no   words    with    him,    good    fellow. 

Who,  I,  sir?  not  I,  sir.     God  be  wi'  you,  good 

Sir  Topas.     Marry,  amen.     I  will,  sir,  I  will. 
Mai.  Fool,  fool,  fool,  I  say, — 
Clo.  Alas,  sir,  be  patient.     What  say  you,  sir  ?     I  am 

shent  for  speaking  to  you. 
Mai.  Good  fool,  help  me  to  some  light  and  some 

paper :  I  tell  thee,  I  am  as  well  in  my  wits  as  any  no 

man  in  Illyria. 

Clo.  Well-a-day  that  you  were,  sir ! 
Mai.  By  this  hand,   I  am.     Good   fool,   some  ink, 

paper  and  light;    and  convey  what  I  will  set 

96 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IV.  Sc.  iii. 

down  to  my  lady :   it  shall  advantage  thee  more 
than  ever  the  bearing  of  letter  did. 
Clo.  I  will  help  you  to  't.     But  tell  me  true,  are  you 

not  mad  indeed  ?  or  do  you  but  counterfeit  ? 
Mai.  Believe  me,  I  am  not ;  I  tell  thee  true. 
Clo.  Nay,  I  '11  ne'er  believe  a  madman  till  I  see  his  120 

brains.     I  will  fetch  you  light  and  paper  and  ink. 
Mai.  Fool,  I  '11  requite  it  in  the  highest  degree :    I 

prithee,  be  gone. 
Clo.   [Singing]   I  am  gone,  sir, 
And  anon,  sir, 
I  '11  be  with  you  again, 
In  a  trice, 

Like  to  the  old  vice, 
Your  need  to  sustain; 

Who,  with  dagger  of  lath,  130 

In  his  rage  and  his  wrath, 

Cries,  ah,  ha !   to  the  devil : 
Like  a  mad  lad, 
Pare  thy  nails,  dad ; 

Adieu,  goodman  devil.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

Olivia's  garden. 
Enter  Sebastian. 

Seb.  This  is  the  air ;  that  is  the  glorious  sun  ; 

This  pearl  she  gave  me,  I  do  feel 't  and  see  't ; 
And  though  'tis  wonder  that  enwraps  me  thus, 
Yet  'tis  not  madness.     Where  's  Antonio,  then  ? 
I  could  not  find  him  at  the  Elephant : 
Yet  there  he  was ;  and  there  I  found  this  credit, 

97 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

That  he  did  range  the  town  to  seek  me  out. 

His  counsel  now  might  do  me  golden  service ; 

For  though  my  soul  disputes  well  with  my  sense, 

That  this  may  be  some  error,  but  no  madness,        10 

Yet  doth  this  accident  and  flood  of  fortune 

So  far  exceed  all  instance,  all  discourse, 

That  I  am  ready  to  distrust  mine  eyes 

And  wrangle  with  my  reason,  that  persuades  me 

To  any  other  trust  but  that  I  am  mad, 

Or  else  the  lady  's  mad ;   yet,  if  'twere  so, 

She  could  not  sway  her  house,  command  her  followers, 

Take  and  give  back  affairs  and  their  dispatch 

With  such  a  smooth,  discreet,  and  stable  bearing 

As  I  perceive  she  does  :  there  's  something  in  't      20 

That  is  deceivable.     But  here  the  lady  comes. 

Enter  Olivia  and  Priest. 

OH.  Blame  not  this  haste  of  mine.     If  you  mean  well, 
Now  go  with  me  and  with  this  holy  man 
Into  the  chantry  by ;  there,  before  him, 
And  underneath  that  consecrated  roof, 
Plight  me  the  full  assurance  of  your  faith ; 
That  my  most  jealous  and  too  doubtful  soul 
May  live  at  peace.     He  shall  conceal  it 
Whiles  you  are  willing  it  shall  come  to  note, 
What  time  we  will  our  celebration  keep  30 

According  to  my  birth.     What  do  you  say? 

Seb.  I  '11  follow  this  good  man,  and  go  with  you ; 
And,  having  sworn  truth,  ever  will  be  true. 

OH.  Then  lead  the  way,  good  father ;  and  heavens  so  shine, 
That  they  may  fairly  note  this  act  of  mine ! 

pg  [Exeunt.} 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

ACT   FIFTH. 

Scene  I. 

Before  Olivia's  house. 
Enter  Clown  and  Fabian. 

Fab.  Now,  as  thou  lovest  me,  let  me  see  his  letter. 
Clo.  Good  Master  Fabian,  grant  me  another  request. 
Fab.  Any  thing. 

Clo.  Do  not  desire  to  see  this  letter. 
Fab.  This  is,  to  give  a  dog,  and  in  recompense  desire 
my  dog  again. 

Enter  Duke,  Viola,  Curio,  and  Lords. 

Duke.  Belong  you  to  the  Lady  Olivia,  friends  ? 

Clo.  Ay,  sir ;  we  are  some  of  her  trappings. 

Duke.  I  know  thee  well :    how  dost  thou,  my  good 

fellow  ?  10 

Clo.  Truly,  sir,  the  better  for  my  foes  and  the  worse 
for  my  friends. 

Duke.  Just  the  contrary ;  the  better  for  thy  friends. 

Clo.  No,  sir,  the  worse. 

Duke.  How  can  that  be? 

Clo.  Marry,  sir,  they  praise  me  and  make  an  ass  of 
me ;  now  my  foes  tell  me  plainly  I  am  an  ass :  so 
that  by  my  foes,  sir,  I  profit  in  the  knowledge  of 
myself ;  and  by  my  friends  I  am  abused :  so  that, 
conclusions  to  be  as  kisses,  if  your  four  negatives  20 
make  your  two  affirmatives,  why  then,  the  worse 
for  my  friends,  and  the  better  for  my  foes. 

Duke.  Why,  this  is  excellent. 

99 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Clo.  By  my  troth,  sir,  no ;  though  it  please  you  to  be 
one  of  my  friends. 

Duke.  Thou  shalt  not  be  the  worse  for  me :  there  's 
gold. 

Clo.  But  that  it  would  be  double-dealing,  sir,  I 
would  you  could  make  it  another. 

Duke.  O,  you  give  me  ill  counsel.  30 

Clo.  Put  your  grace  in  your  pocket,  sir,  for  this  once, 
and  let  your  flesh  and  blood  obey  it. 

Duke.  Well,  I  will  be  so  much  a  sinner,  to  be  a 
double-dealer :  there  's  another. 

Clo.  Primo,  secundo,  tertio,  is  a  good  play ;  and  the 
old  saying  is,  the  third  pays  for  all :  the  triplex, 
sir,  is  a  good  tripping  measure ;  or  the  bells  of 
Saint  Bennet,  sir,  may  put  you  in  mind ;  one, 
two,  three. 

Duke.  You  can  fool  no  more  money  out  of  me  at  this     40 
throw :  if  you  will  let  your  lady  know  I  am  here 
to  speak  with  her,  and  bring  her  along  with  you, 
it  may  awake  my  bounty  further. 

Clo.  Marry,  sir,  lullaby  to  your  bounty  till  I  come 
again.  I  go,  sir ;  but  I  would  not  have  you  to 
think  that  my  desire  of  having  is  the  sin  of 
covetousness :  but,  as  you  say,  sir,  let  your 
bounty  take  a  nap,  I  will  awake  it  anon.  '[Exit. 

Vio.  Here  comes  the  man,  sir,  that  did  rescue  me. 

Enter  Antonio  and  Officers. 

Duke.  That  face  of  his  I  do  remember  well ;  50 

Yet,  when  I  saw  it  last,  it  was  besmear'd 
As  black  as  Vulcan  in  the  smoke  of  war : 
A  bawbling  vessel  was  he  captain  of, 

100 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

For  shallow  draught  and  bulk  unprizable ; 

With  which  such  scathful  gapple  did  he  make 

With  the  most  noble  bottom  of  our  fleet, 

That  very  envy  and  the  tongue  of  loss 

Cried  fame  and  honour  on  him.     What 's  the  matter  ? 

First  Off.  Orsino,  this  is  that  Antonio 

That  took  the  Phoenix  and  her  fraught  from  Candy ; 
And  this  is  he  that  did  the  Tiger  board,  61 

When  your  young  nephew  Titus  lost  his  leg: 
Here  in  the  streets,  desperate  of  shame  and  state, 
In  private  brabble  did  we  apprehend  him. 

Vio.  He  did  me  kindness,  sir,  drew  on  my  side ; 

But  in  conclusion  put  strange  speech  upon  me: 
I  know  not  what  'twas  but  distraction. 

Duke.  Notable  pirate!   thou  salt-water  thief! 

What  foolish  boldness  brought  thee  to  their  mercies, 
Whom  thou,  in  terms  so  bloody  and  so  dear,  70 

Hast  made  thine  enemies? 

Ant.  Orsino,  noble  sir, 

Be  pleased  that  I  shake  off  these  names  you  give  me : 
Antonio  never  yet  was  thief  or  pirate, 
Though  I  confess,  on  base  and  ground  enough, 
Orsino's  enemy.     A  witchcraft  drew  me  hither : 
That  most  ingrateful  boy  there  by  your  side, 
From  the  rude  sea's  enraged  and  foamy  mouth 
Did  I  redeem ;  a  wreck  past  hope  he  was : 
His  life  I  gave  him  and  did  thereto  add 
My  love,  without  retention  or  restraint,  80 

All  his  in  dedication  ;   for  his  sake 
Did  I  expose  myself,  pure  for  his  love, 
Into  the  danger  of  this  adverse  town ; 
Drew  to  defend  him  when  he  was  beset : 
101 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Where  being  apprehended,  his  false  cunning, 
Not  meaning  to  partake  with  me  in  danger, 
Taught  him  to  face  me  out  of  his  acquaintance, 
And  grew  a  twenty  years  removed  thing 
While  one  could  wink ;   denied  me  mine  own  purse, 
Which  I  had  recommended  to  his  use  90 

Not  half  an  hour  before. 

Vio.  How  can  this  be? 

Duke.  When  came  he  to  this  town? 

Ant.  To-day,  my  lord ;  and  for  three  months  before, 
No  interim,  not  a  minute's  vacancy, 
Both  day  and  night  did  we  keep  company. 

Enter  Olivia  and  Attendants. 

Duke.  Here  comes  the  countess :   now  heaven  walks  on 
earth. 

But  for  thee,  fellow ;  fellow,  thy  words  are  madness  : 

Three  months  this  youth  hath  tended  upon  me ; 

But  more  of  that  anon.     Take  him  aside. 
OIL  What  would  my  lord,  but  that  he  may  not  have,  100 

Wherein  Olivia  may  seem  serviceable? 

Cesario,  you  do  not  keep  promise  with  me. 
Vio.  Madam ! 
Duke.  Gracious  Olivia, — 

OH.  What  do  you  say,  Cesario  ?     Good  my  lord, — 
Vio.  My  lord  would  speak ;   my  duty  hushes  me. 
OH.  If  it  be  aught  to  the  old  tune,  my  lord, 

It  is  as  fat  and  fulsome  to  mine  ear 

As  howling  after  music. 
Duke.  Still  so  cruel  ? 

OH.  Still  so  constant,  lord.  no 

Duke.  What,  to  perverseness  ?  you  uncivil  lady, 

102 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

To  whose  ing-rate  and  unauspicious  altars, 

My  soul  the  faithfull'st  offerings  hath  breathed  out 

That  e'er  devotion  tender'd !     What  shall  I  do  ? 

OH.  Even  what  it  please  my  lord,  that  shall  become  him. 

Duke.  Why  should  I  not,  had  I  the  heart  to  do  it, 
Like  to  the  Egyptian  thief  at  point  of  death, 
Kill  what  I  love? — a  savage  jealousy 
That  sometime  savours  nobly.     But  hear  me  this : 
Since  you  to  non-regardance  cast  my  faith,  120 

And  that  I  partly  know  the  instrument 
That  screws  me  from  my  true  place  in  your  favour, 
Live  you  the  marble-breasted  tyrant  still ; 
But  this  your  minion,  whom  I  know  you  love, 
And  whom,  by  heaven  I  swear,  I  tender  dearly, 
Him  will  I  tear  out  of  that  cruel  eye, 
Where  he  sits  crowned  in  his  master's  spite. 
Come,  boy,  with  me;    my  thoughts  are  ripe  in  mis- 
chief : 

I  '11  sacrifice  the  lamb  that  I  do  love, 
To  spite  a  raven's  heart  within  a  dove.  130 

Vio.  And  I,  most  jocund,  apt  and  willingly, 

To  do  you  rest,  a  thousand  deaths  would  die. 

Oli.  Where  goes  Cesario? 

Vio.  After  him  I  love 

More  than  I  love  these  eyes,  more  than  my  life, 
More,  by  all  mores,  than  e'er  I  shall  love  wife. 
If  I  do  feign,  you  witnesses  above 
Punish  my  life  for  tainting  of  my  love ! 

Oli.  Ay  me,  detested !   how  am  I  beguiled ! 

Vio.  Who  does  beguile  you  ?  who  does  do  you  wrong  ? 

Oli.  Hast  thou  forgot  thyself?  is  it  so  long?  140 

Call  forth  the  holy  father. 
103 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT : 

Duke.  Come,  away ! 

Oli.  Whither,  my  lord?     Cesario,  husband,  stay. 

Duke.  Husband! 

Oli.  Ay,  husband :  can  he  that  deny  ? 

Duke.  Her  husband,  sirrah ! 

Vio.  No,  my  lord,  not  I. 

Oli.  Alas,  it  is  the  baseness  of  thy  fear 

That  makes  thee  strangle  thy  propriety: 

Fear  not,  Cesario ;  take  thy  fortunes  up ; 

Be  that  thou  know'st  thou  art,  and  then  thou  art 

As  great  as  that  thou  fear'st. 

Enter  Priest. 

O,  welcome,  father! 

Father,  T  charge  thee,  by  thy  reverence,  1 50 

Here  to  unfold,  though  lately  we  intended 
To  keep  in  darkness  what  occasion  now 
Reveals  before  'tis  ripe,  what  thou  dost  know 
Hath  newly  pass'd  between  this  youth  and  me. 

Priest.  A  contract  of  eternal  bond  of  love, 

Confirm'd  by  mutual  joinder  of  your  hands, 

Attested  by  the  holy  close  of  lips, 

Strengthen'd  by  interchangement  of  your  rings; 

And  all  the  ceremony  of  this  compact 

Seal'd  in  my  function,  by  my  testimony :  160 

Since  when,  my  watch  hath  told  me,   toward  my 

grave 
I  have  travell'd  but  two  hours. 

Duke.  O  thou  dissembling  cub!   what  wilt  thou  be 
When  time  hath  sow'd  a  grizzle  on  thy  case? 
Or  will  not  else  thy  craft  so  quickly  grow, 
That  thine  own  trip  shall  be  thine  overthrow? 

104 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Farewell,  and  take  her ;   but  direct  thy  feet 
Where  thou  and  I  henceforth  may  never  meet. 

Vio.  My  lord,  I  do  protest — 

Oli.  O,  do  not  swear! 

Hold  little  faith,  though  thou  hast  too  much  fear.  170 

Enter  Sir  Andrew. 

Sir  And.  For  the  love  of  God,  a  surgeon !     Send  one 

presently  to  Sir  Toby. 
Oli.  What 's  the  matter  ? 
Sir  And.  He  has  broke  my  head  across  and  has  given 

Sir  Toby  a  bloody  coxcomb  too :  for  the  love  of 

God,  your  help !     I  had  rather  than  forty  pound 

I  were  at  home. 

Oli.  Who  has  done  this,  Sir  Andrew? 
Sir  And.  The  count's  gentleman,  one  Cesario:    we 

took  him  for  a  coward,  but  he  's  the  very  devil  180 

incardinate. 

Duke.  My  gentleman,  Cesario? 
Sir  And.  'Od's  lifelings,  here  he  is !     You  broke  my 

head  for  nothing ;  and  that  that  I  did,  I  was  set 

on  to  do 't  by  Sir  Toby. 
Vio.  Why  do  you  speak  to  me  ?     I  never  hurt  you : 

You  drew  your  sword  upon  me  without  cause; 

But  I  bespake  you  fair,  and  hurt  you  not. 
Sir  And.  If  a  bloody  coxcomb  be  a  hurt,  you  have 

hurt  me:    I  think  you  set  nothing  by  a  bloody  190 

coxcomb. 

Enter  Sir  Toby  and  Clown. 

Here  comes  Sir  Toby  halting ;  you  shall  hear 
more :  but  if  he  had  not  been  in  drink,  he  would 
have  tickled  you  other  gates  than  he  did. 

105 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Duke.  How  now,  gentleman  !  how  is  't  with  you? 
Sir  To.  That 's  all  one :  has  hurt  me,  and  there  's  the 

end  on  't.     Sot,  didst  see  Dick  surgeon,  sot  ? 
Clo.  O,  he  's  drunk,  Sir  Toby,  an  hour  agone ;   his 

eyes  were  set  at  eight  i'  the  morning. 
Sir  To.  Then  he  's  a  rogue,  and  a  passy  measures  200 

pavin  :  I  hate  a  drunken  rogue. 
Oli.  Away  with  him!     Who  hath  made  this  havoc 

with  them? 
Sir  And.  I'll  help  you,  Sir  Toby,  because  we'll  be 

dressed  together. 
Sir  To.  Will  you  help  ?   an  ass-head  and  a  coxcomb 

and  a  knave,  a  thin-faced  knave,  a  gull ! 
Oli.  Get  him  to  bed,  and  let  his  hurt  be  look'd  to. 

[Exeunt  Clown,  Fabian,  Sir  Toby,  and  Sir  Andrew. 

Enter  Sebastian. 

Seb.  I  am  sorry,  madam,  I  have  hurt  your  kinsman  ; 

But,  had  it  been  the  brother  of  my  blood,  210 

I  must  have  done  no  less  with  wit  and  safety. 
You  throw  a  strange  regard  upon  me,  and  by  that 
I  do  perceive  it  hath  offended  you : 
Pardon  me,  sweet  one,  even  for  the  vows 
We  made  each  other  but  so  late  ago. 

Duke.  One  face,  one  voice,  one  habit  and  two  persons, 
A  natural  perspective,  that  is  and  is  not ! 

Scb.  Antonio,  O  my  dear  Antonio ! 

How  have  the  hours  rack'd  and  tortured  me, 

Since  I  have  lost  thee !  220 

Ant.  Sebastian  are  you? 

Seb.  Fear'st  thou  that,  Antonio? 

Ant.  How  have  you  made  division  of  yourself? 

106 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

An  apple,  cleft  in  two,  is  not  more  twin 

Than  these  two  creatures.     Which  is  Sebastian  ? 

Oli.  Most  wonderful ! 

Seb.  Do  I  stand  there  ?     I  never  had  a  brother ; 
Nor  can  there  be  that  deity  in  my  nature, 
Of  here  and  every  where.     I  had  a  sister, 
Whom  the  blind  waves  and  surges  have  devour'd. 
Of  charity,  what  kin  are  you  to  me  ?  230 

What  countryman  ?  what  name  ?   what  parentage  ? 

Vio.  Of  Messaline :   Sebastian  was  my  father ; 
Such  a  Sebastian  was  my  brother  too, 
So  went  he  suited  to  his  watery  tomb : 
If  spirits  can  assume  both  form  and  suit, 
You  come  to  fright  us. 

Seb.  A  spirit  I  am  indeed ; 

But  am  in  that  dimension  grossly  clad 
Which  from  the  womb  I  did  participate. 
Were  you  a  woman,  as  the  rest  goes  even, 
I  should  my  tears  let  fall  upon  your  cheek,  240 

And  say  '  Thrice-welcome,  drowned  Viola ! ' 

Vio.  My  father  had  a  mole  upon  his  brow. 

Seb.  And  so  had  mine. 

Vio.  And  died  that  day  when  Viola  from  her  birth 
Had  number'd  thirteen  years. 

Seb.  O,  that  record  is  lively  in  my  soul ! 
He  finished  indeed  his  mortal  act 
That  day  that  made  my  sister  thirteen  years. 

Vio.  If  nothing  lets  to  make  us  happy  both 

But  this  my  masculine  usurp'd  attire,  250 

Do  not  embrace  me  till  each  circumstance 
Of  place,  time,  fortune,  do  cohere  and  jump 
That  I  am  Viola :  which  to  confirm, 
107 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

I  '11  bring  you  to  a  captain  in  this  town, 

Where  lie  my  maiden  weeds ;  by  whose  gentle  help 

I  was  preserved  to  serve  this  noble  count. 

All  the  occurrence  of  my  fortune  since 

Hath  been  between  this  lady  and  this  lord. 

Seb.  [  To  Olivia]  So  comes  it,  lady,  you  have  been  mistook  : 
But  nature  to  her  bias  drew  in  that.  260 

You  would  have  been  contracted  to  a  maid ; 
Nor  are  you  therein,  by  my  life,  deceived, 
You  are  betroth'd  both  to  a  maid  and  man. 

Duke.  Be  not  amazed ;   right  noble  is  his  blood. 
If  this  be  so,  as  yet  the  glass  seems  true, 
I  shall  have  share  in  this  most  happy  wreck. 

[To  Viola}   Boy,  thou  hast  said  to  me  a  thousand  times 
Thou  never  shouldst  love  woman  like  to  me. 

Vio.  And  all  those  sayings  will  I  over-swear ; 

And  all  those  swearings  keep  as  true  in  soul         270 
As  doth  that  orbed  continent  the  fire 
That  severs  day  from  night. 

Duke.  Give  me  thy  hand  ; 

And  let  me  see  thee  in  thy  woman's  weeds. 

Vio.  The  captain  that  did  bring  me  first  on  shore 
Hath  my  maid's  garments  :  he  upon  some  action 
Is  now  in  durance,  at  Malvolio's  suit, 
A  gentleman,  and  follower  of  my  lady's. 

OH.  He  shall  enlarge  him :   fetch  Malvolio  hither : 
And  yet,  alas,  now  I  remember  me, 
They  say,  poor  gentleman,  he 's  much  distract.      280 

Re-enter  Clown  with  a  letter,  and  Fabian. 

A  most  extracting  frenzy  of  mine  own 
From  my  remembrance  clearly  banish'd  his. 

108 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

How  does  he,  sirrah? 

Clo.  Truly,  madam,  he  holds  Belzebub  at  the  stave's 
end  as  well  as  a  man  in  his  case  may  do :  has 
here  writ  a  letter  to  you ;  I  should  have  given  't 
you  to-day  morning,  but  as  a  madman's  epistles 
are  no  gospels,  so  it  skills  not  much  when  they 
are  delivered. 

OIL  Open  't  and  read  it.  290 

Clo.  Look  then  to  be  well  edified  when  the  fool  delivers 
the  madman.    [Reads]   By  the  Lord,  madam, — 

OIL  How  now !  art  thou  mad  ? 

Clo.  No,  madam,  I  do  but  read  madness:  an  your 
ladyship  will  have  it  as  it  ought  to  be,  you  must 
allow  Vox. 

OIL  Prithee,  read  i'  thy  right  wits. 

Clo.  So  I  do,  madonna ;  but  to  read  his  right  wits  is 
to  read  thus :  therefore  perpend,  my  princess, 
and  give  ear.  300 

OIL  Read  it  you,  sirrah.  [To  Fabian. 

Fab.  By  the  Lord,  madam,  you  wrong  me,  and  the 
world  shall  know  it :  though  you  have  put  me 
into  darkness  and  given  your  drunken  cousin 
rule  over  me,  yet  have  I  the  benefit  of  my  senses 
as  well  as  your  ladyship.  I  have  your  own  let- 
ter that  induced  me  to  the  semblance  I  put  on ; 
with  the  which  I  doubt  not  but  to  do  myself 
much  right,  or  you  much  shame.  Think  of  me 
as  you  please.  I  leave  my  duty  a  little  un-  310 
thought  of,  and  speak  out  of  my  injury. 

THE  MADLY-USED  MALVOLIO. 

OIL  Did  he  write  this? 

109 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Clo.  Ay,  madam. 

Duke.  This  savours  not  much  of  distraction. 

Oli.  See  him  deliver'd,  Fabian  ;  bring  him  hither. 

[Exit  Fabian. 

My  lord,  so  please  you,  these  things  further  thought  on, 
To  think  me  as  well  a  sister  as  a  wife, 
One  day  shall  crown  the  alliance  on  't,  so  please  you, 
Here  at  my  house  and  at  my  proper  cost. 

Duke*  Madam,  I  am  most  apt  to  embrace  your  offer.  320 
{To   Viola\   Your  master  quits  you;    and  for 

your  service  done  him, 
So  much  against  the  mettle  of  your  sex, 
So  far  beneath  your  soft  and  tender  breeding, 
And  since  you  call'd  me  master  for  so  long, 
Here  is  my  hand :   you  shall  from  this  time  be 
Your  master's  mistress. 

Oli.  A  sister!    you  are  she. 

Re-enter  Fabian,  with  Malvolio. 

Duke.  Is  this  the  madman? 

Oli.  Ay,  my  lord,  this  same. 

How  now,  Malvolio! 

Mai.  Madam,  you  have  done  me  wrong, 

Notorious  wrong. 

Oli.  Have  I,  Malvolio?  no. 

Mai.  Lady,  you  have.     Pray  you,  peruse  that  letter.  330 
You  must  not  now  deny  it  is  your  hand : 
Write  from  it,  if  you  can,  in  hand  or  phrase ; 
Or  say  'tis  not  your  seal,  not  your  invention : 
You  can  say  none  of  this :  well,  grant  it  then 
And  tell  me,  in  the  modesty  of  honour, 
Why  you  have  given  me  such  clear  lights  of  favour, 

no 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Bade  me  come  smiling-  and  cross-garter'd  to  you, 
To  put  on  yellow  stockings  and  to  frown 
Upon  Sir  Toby  and  the  lighter  people ; 
And,  acting  this  in  an  obedient  hope,  340 

Why  have  you  suffer'd  me  to  be  imprison'd, 
Kept  in  a  dark  house,  visited  by  the  priest, 
And  made  the  most  notorious  geek  and  gull 
That  e'er  invention  play'd  on  ?  tell  me  why. 

OH.  Alas,  Malvolio,  this  is  not  my  writing, 

Though,  I  confess,  much  like  the  character : 
But  out  of  question  'tis  Maria's  hand. 
And  now  I  do  bethink  me,  it  was  she 
First  told  me  thou  wast  mad ;  then  earnest  in  smiling, 
And  in  such  forms  which  here  were  presupposed  350 
Upon  thee  in  the  letter.     Prithee,  be  content : 
This  practice  hath  most  shrewdly  pass'd  upon  thee ; 
But  when  we  know  the  grounds  and  authors  of  it, 
Thou  shalt  be  both  the  plaintiff  and  the  judge 
Of  thine  own  cause. 

Fab.  Good  madam,  hear  me  speak. 

And  let  no  quarrel  nor  no  brawl  to  come 
Taint  the  condition  of  this  present  hour, 
Which  I  have  wonder'd  at.     In  hope  it  shall  not, 
Most  freely  I  confess,  myself  and  Toby 
Set  this  device  against  Malvolio  here,  360 

Upon  some  stubborn  and  un courteous  parts 
We  had  conceived  against  him :   Maria  writ 
The  letter  at  Sir  Toby's  great  importance ; 
In  recompense  whereof  he  hath  married  her. 
How  with  a  sportful  malice  it  was  follow'd 
May  rather  pluck  on  laughter  than  revenge ; 
If  that  the  injuries  be  justly  weigh'd 
in 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

That  have  on  both  sides  pass'd. 

Oli.  Alas,  poor  fool,  how  have  they  baffled  thee! 

Clo.  Why,  '  some  are  born  great,  some  achieve  great-  370 
ness,  and  some  have  greatness  thrown  upon 
them.'  I  was  one,  sir,  in  this  interlude ;  one 
Sir  Topas,  sir;  but  that's  all  one.  'By  the 
Lord,  fool,  I  am  not  mad.'  But  do  you  remem- 
ber? '  Madam,  why  laugh  you  at  such  a  bar- 
ren rascal  ?  an  you  smile  not,  he  's  gagged  ; : 
and  thus  the  whirligig  of  time  brings  in  his  re- 
venges. 

Mai.  I  '11  be  revenged  on  the  whole  pack  of  you.     [Exit. 

Oli.  He  hath  been  most  notoriously  abused. 

Duke.  Pursue  him,  and  entreat  him  to  a  peace :  380 

He  hath  not  told  us  of  the  captain  yet : 
When  that  is  known,  and  golden  time  convents, 
A  solemn  combination  shall  be  made 
Of  our  dear  souls.     Meantime,  sweet  sister, 
We  will  not  part  from  hence.     Cesario,  come ; 
For  so  you  shall  be,  while  you  are  a  man ; 
But  when  in  other  habits  you  are  seen, 
Orsino's  mistress  and  his  fancy's  queen. 

[Exeunt  all,  except  Clown. 

Clo.   [Sings'] 

When  that  I  was  and  a  little  tiny  boy, 

With  hey,  ho,  the  wind  and  the  rain,  390 

A  foolish  thing  was  but  a  toy, 
For  the  rain  it  raineth  every  day. 

But  when  I  came  to  man's  estate, 

With  hey,  ho,  &c. 
'Gainst  knaves  and  thieves  men  shut  their  gate, 

For  the  rain,  &c. 

112 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

But  when  I  came,  alas !   to  wive, 

With  hey,  ho,  &c. 
By  swaggering  could  I  never  thrive, 

For  the  rain,  &c.  400 

But  when  I  came  unto  my  beds, 

With  hey,  ho,  &c. 
With  toss-ots  still  had  drunken  heads, 

For  the  rain,  &c. 

A  great  while  ago  the  world  begun, 

With  hey,  ho,  &c. 
But  that 's  all  one,  our  play  is  done, 

And  we  '11  strive  to  please  you  every  day.  [Exit. 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Glossary. 


Abuse,  deceive;  III.  i.  120. 
Accosted,  addressed;  III.  ii.  20. 
A  degree,  one  step ;  III.  i.  130. 
Adheres,  accords;  III.  iv.  84. 
Admire,  wonder;  III.  iv.  162. 
Adverse,  hostile;  V.  i.  83. 
Advise  you,  take  care;  IV.  ii. 

98. 
Affectioned,    affected;     II.    iii. 

153- 

Agone,  ago;  V.  i.  198. 

Allowed,  licensed;  I.  v.  96. 

Allow  me,  make  me  acknowl- 
edged ;  I.  ii.  59. 

Alone,  pre-eminently ;  I.  i.  15. 

An  =  one  ;  II.  i.  19. 

Anatomy,  body;  used  con- 
temptuously; III.  ii.  65. 

And;  used  redundantly,  as  in 
the  old  ballads;  V.  i.  389. 

Antique,  quaint;  II.  iv.  3. 

Apt,  ready  ;  V.  i.  320. 

Arbitrement,  decision;  III.  iv. 
281. 

Argument,  proof;  III.  ii.  10. 

As  yet,  still ;  V.  i.  265. 

Attends,  awaits ;  III.  iv.  239. 

Back-trick,  a  caper  backwards ; 

I.  iii.  124. 
Baffled,  treated  with  contempt ; 

V.  i.  369- 
Barful,  full  of  impediments ; 

(  Pope,  "  O  baneful  " ;  Daniel, 

"a  woeful")  ;  I.  iv.  41. 


Barren,  dull ;  I.  v.  85. 
Barricadoes,  fortifications  made 
in  haste,  obstructions ;  IV.  ii. 

39- 

Bazt'bling,  insignificant,  trifling ; 
V.  i.  53- 

Baivcock,  a  term  of  endear- 
ment ;  always  used  in  mascu- 
line sense;  III.  iv.  123. 

Beagle,  a  small  dog;  II.  iii. 
185. 

Before  me,  by  my  soul ;  II.  iii. 
184. 

Belike,  I  suppose;  III.  iii.  29. 

Bent,  tension;  II.  iv.  38. 

Bcshrczv,  a  mild  form  of  im- 
precation ;  IV.  i.  61. 

Besides,  out  of;  IV.  ii.  90. 

Bespoke  you  fair,  spoke  kindly 
to  you ;  V.  i.  188. 

Bias,  originally  the  weighted 
side  of  a  bowl ;  V.  i.  260. 

Bibble  babble,  idle  talk;  IV.  ii. 
101. 

Biddy,  "  a  call  to  allure  chick- 
ens ";  III.  iv.  126. 

Bird-bolts,  blunt-headed  ar- 
rows ;  I.  v.  95. 

Blazon,  "  coat-of-arms  " ;  I.  v. 
303. 

Blent  =  blended  ;  I.  v.  248. 

Bloody,  bloodthirsty;  III.  iv. 
239- 

Blows,  inflates,  puffs  up ;  II.  v. 
45- 


114 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Glossary 


Bosom,  the  folds  of  the  dress 
covering  the  breast,  stomach- 
er; III.  i.  128. 

Botcher,  mender  of  old  clothes ; 
I.  v.  46. 

Bottle-ale,  bottled  ale;  II.  iii. 
29. 

Bottom,  ship,  vessel ;  V.  i.  56. 

Brabble,  brawl,  broil ;  V.  i.  64. 

Branched,  "  adorned  with 
needle  -  work,  representing 
flowers  and  twigs  " ;  II.  v.  49. 

Breach,  surf;  II.  i.  22. 

Breast,  voice ;  II.  iii.  20. 

Bred,  begotten ;  I.  ii.  22. 

Brock,  badger,  a  term  of  con- 
tempt; II.  v.  106. 

Brownist,  a  member  of  a  Puri- 
tan sect;  III.  ii.  31. 

Bum-baily,  bailiff;  III.  iv.  190. 

But  =  than ;  I.  iv.  13. 

Buttery-bar;  buttery,  place 
where  drink  and  food  were 
kept ;  bar,  place  where  they 
were  served  out;  I.  iii.  71. 


Buttery-bar,  Christ  Church,  Oxford. 

By  the  duello,  by  the  laws  of 
duelling;  III.  iv.  329. 


Canary,  wine  from  the  Canary 
Isles;  I.  iii.  81. 

Cantons  =  cantos  ;  I.  v.  280. 

Case,  body,  skin ;  V.  i.  164. 

Castiliano  vulgo  ;  "  Spanish  of 
Sir  Toby's  own  making," 
perhaps  it  may  mean,  "  Be  as 
reticent  as  a  Castilian  now 
that  one  of  the  common  herd 
is  coming  "  ;  I.  iii.  44. 

Cataian,  Chinese ;  used  here  as 
a  term  of  reproach;  II.  iii. 
77- 

Catch,  "  a  song  sung  in  succes- 
sion "  ;  II.  iii.  18. 

Chain,  the  chain  of  office  which 
stewards  were  accustomed  to 
wear ;  II.  iii.  124. 

Chantry,  a  private  chapel ;  IV. 
iii.  24. 

Checks;  "  to  check  "  is  "  a  term 
in  falconry,  applied  to  a  hawk 
when  she  forsakes  her  proper 
game,  and  follows  some  other 
of  inferior  kind  that  crosses 
her  in  her  flight ";  II.  v.  116; 
III.  i.  69. 

Cherry-pit,  "  a  game  consisting 
in  pitching  cherry-stones  into 
a  small  hole  " ;  III.  iv.  127. 

Cheveril,  roe-buck  leather ; 
symbol  of  flexibility;  III.  i. 
13- 

Chuck,  chicken,  a  term  of  en- 
dearment ;  III.  iv.  124. 

Civil,  polite,  well-mannered : 
III.  iv.  5. 

Clodpole,  blockhead ;  III.  iv. 
208. 

Cloistress,  inhabitant  of  a  clois- 
ter, nun ;  I.  i.  28. 

Cloyment,  surfeit;  II.  iv.  101. 


"5 


Glossary 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Cockatrice,  an  imaginary  crea- 
ture, supposed  to  be  produced 
from  a  cock's  egg.  and  to  have 
so  deadly  an  eye  as  to  kill 
by  its  very  look;  III.  iv.  211. 

Collier;  "  the  devil  was  called 
so  because  of  his  blackness  "  ; 
cp.  the  proverb  :  "  like  will  to 
like,  quoth  the  devil  to  the 
collier" ;  III.  iv.  128. 

Colours;  "  fear  no  colours," 
fear  no  enemy:  I  v.  6. 

Comfortable,  comforting;  I.  v. 
232. 

Commerce,  conversation ;  III. 
iv.  187. 

Compare,  comparison;  II.  iv 
103. 

Competitors,  confederates ;  IV. 
li.  12. 

Complexion,  external  appear 
ance ;  11 .  iv.  26. 

Comptible,  sensitive;  I.  v.  181. 

Conceited,  has  formed  an  idea ; 
III  iv.  316. 

Conclusions  to  be  as  kisses,  i.e 
"  as  in  a  syllogism  it  takes 
two  premises  to  make  one 
conclusion,  so  it  takes  two 
people  to  make  one  kiss " 
(Cambridge  edition) ;  v.  i.  20. 

Conduct,  guard,  escort:  III.  iv. 
260. 

Consequently,  subsequently; 
III.  iv.  77. 

Consideration ;  "  on  carpet  c." 
=  "  a  mere  carpet  knight  " ; 

III.  iv.  254. 

Constant,    consistent,     logical ; 

IV.  ii.  51. 

Convents,  is  convenient ;  V.  i. 
382. 


Coranto,  a  quick,  lively  dance; 

I.  iii.  130. 

Couplet,  couple;  III.  iv.  401. 

Coxcomb,  head;  V.  i.  175. 

Coystrill.   a   mean,    paltry    fel- 
low ;  I.  iii.  41. 

C  osiers,  botchers,  cobblers;  II. 
jii.  92. 

Credit,  intelligence;  IV.  iii.  6 

Cross-gartered;  alluding  to  the 
custom  of  wearing  the  gar 
ters  crossed  m  various  styles; 

II.  v.  156. 


Specimens  of  cross-gvrtenng. 

(a)  and  (b)  Front  and  baik  views  of  a 
gentleman's  knee,  from  an  early 
XVIth.  century  tapestry 

(c)  Tartar  cross-ga;tering.  From  a 
book  on  costume,  published  at  Ant- 
werp, 1582. 

Crowner,  coroner;  I.  v.  137. 

Cruelty,  cruel  one;  II.  iv. 82. 

Cubiculo  (one  of  Sir  Toby's 
" aff ectioned "  words),  apart- 
ment; III.  ii.  54. 


116 


Glossary 


"  Cucullus  non  facit  mona- 
chunt "  =  a  cowl  does  not 
make  a  monk ;  I.  v.  57. 

Cunning,  skilful ;  I.  v.  249. 

Curst,  sharp,  shrewish ;  III.  ii. 

43- 

Cut,  a  docked  horse ;  II.  iii.  193. 

Cypress ;  probably  "  a  coffin  of 
cypresswood  "  ;  (others  ex- 
plain it  as  a  shroud  of  cy- 
press ;  Cotgrave  mentions 
white  cipres)  ;  II.  iv.  53. 

Cypress,  crape  (v.  Note)  ;  III. 
i.  128. 

Dally,  play,  trifle;  III.  i.  16. 
Day-bed,  couch,  sofa ;  II.  v.  50. 
Deadly,  death-like ;  I.  v.  275. 
Dear,  heartfelt;  V.  i.  70. 
Deceivable,    delusive;    IV.    iii. 

21. 

Dedication,  devotedness :  V.  i. 

81. 
Delivered,  set  at  liberty;  V.  i. 

315. 

Denay,  denial;  II.  iv.  126. 

Deny,  refuse;  IV.  i.  61. 

Desperate,  hopeless;  II.  ii.  8; 
reckless ;  V.  i.  63. 

Despite,  malice ;  III.  iv.  239. 

Determinate,  fixed ;  II.  i.  10. 

Dexteriously,  dexterously;  I.  v. 
61. 

Diluculo  surgere  (saluberri- 
mum  est),  to  rise  early  is 
most  healthful ;  II.  iii.  2. 

Dimension,  bodily  shape ;  I.  v. 
271 ;  V.  i.  237. 

Discourse,  reasoning;  IV.  iii. 
12. 

Dismount,  draw  from  the  scab- 
bard; III.  iv.  240. 


Disorders,  misconduct ;   II.  iii. 

100. 

Dissemble,  disguise ;  IV.  ii.  5. 
Distemper,  make  ill-humoured ; 

II.  i-  5- 

Distempered,  diseased ;  I.  v.  93. 
Dry,  insipid;  I.  v.  44. 

Egyptian  thief;  an  allusion  to 
Thyamis,  a  robber  chief  in 
the  Greek  Romance  of  Thea- 
genes  and  Chariclea  (trans, 
into  English  before  1587) ; 
the  thief  attempted  to  kill 
Chariclea,  whom  he  loved, 
rather  than  lose  her ;  by  mis- 
take he  slew  another  person ; 
V.  i.  117. 

Element,  sky  and  air,  I.  i.  26; 
sphere,  III.  i.  63.  The  four 
elements,  i.e.  fire,  air,  water, 
earth,  II.  iii.  10.  (See  illus- 
tration.) 


From  the  Myrrour  and  Dyscrypcyon 
of  the  Worlde,  with  many  Jffer- 
v  ay  lies  (c.  1525). 

Elephant,  the  name  of  an  inn ; 
III.  iii.  39. 


117 


Glossary 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Enchantment,  love-charm;  III. 
i.  119. 

Encounter,  go  towards;  used 
affectedly;  III.  i.  79. 

Endeavour  thyself,  try;  IV.  ii. 
100. 

Enlarge,  release ;  V.  i.  278. 

Entertainment,  treatment;  I.  v. 
225. 

Estimable  wonder,  admiring 
judgment ;  II.  i.  27. 

Except,  before  excepted,  allu- 
ding to  the  common  law- 
phrase;  I.  iii.  7. 

Expenses,  a  tip,  douceur ;  III. 
i.  48. 

Expressure,  expression;  II.  iii. 
164. 

Extent,     conduct,     behaviour ; 

IV.  i.  56. 

Extracting  (later  Folios  "  ex- 
acting"), "drawing  other 
thoughts  from  my  mind"; 

V.  i.  281. 
Extravagancy,  vagrancy ;  II.  i. 

ii. 

Fadge,  prosper ;  II.  ii.  34. 

Fall,  strain,  cadence ;  I.  i.  4. 

Fancy,  love ;  I.  i.  14 ;  V.  i.  388. 

Fantastical,  fanciful,  creative ; 
I.  i.  15- 

'  Farewell,  dear  heart,  since  I 
must  needs  begone,'  etc. ;  al- 
tered from  Corydon's  Fare- 
well to  Phillis  (Percy's  Re- 
liques)  ;  II.  iii.  105. 

Favour,  face,  form;  II.  iv.  24; 
III.  iv.  352. 

Feature,  external  form,  body ; 
III.  iv.  389. 

Feelingly,  exactly;  II.  iii.  165. 


Fclloiv,  companion ;  III.  iv.  82. 
Firago,   corruption   of   virago; 

III.  iv.  296. 

Firc-nezv,  brand-new  ;  III.  ii.  21. 
Fit,  becoming,  suitable;  III.  i. 

72. 
Flatter    with,    encourage    with 

hopes;  I.  v.  313. 
Fleshed,     "  made     fierce     and 

eager  for  combat,   as  a  dog 

fed  with  flesh  only  " ;  IV.  i. 

43- 

Fond,  dote ;  II.  ii.  35. 

Forgive,  excuse;  I.  v.  200. 

For  that,  because ;  III.  i.  161. 

Fourteen  years'  purchase,  i.e. 
"  at  a  high  rate,"  the  current 
price  in  Shakespeare's  time 
being  twelve  years'  purchase ; 

IV.  i.  24. 

Fraught,  freight ;  V.  i.  60. 
Free,     careless      (or     perhaps 

graceful,    comely ;    cp.    "  fair 

and  free")  ;  II.  iv.  46. 
Fresh  in  murmur,  begun  to  be 

rumoured ;  I.  ii.  32. 
Fright,  affright ;  V.  i.  236. 
From;  "  f.  Candy,"  i.e.  "  on  her 

voyage  from  Candy " ;  V.  i. 

60. 
Fulsome,  gross,  distasteful ;  V. 

i.  108. 

Galliard,  a  lively  French  dance ; 
I.  iii.  121. 

Gaskins,  a  kind  of  loose 
breeches;  I.  v.  25. 

Geek,  dupe ;  V.  i.  343. 

Gentleness,  kindness,  good- 
will ;  II.  i.  44. 

Giddily,  negligently ;  II.  iv.  86. 

Gin,  snare ;  II.  v.  85. 


118 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Glossary 


Ginger,  a  favourite  spice  in 
Shakespeare's  time,  especially 
with  old  people ;  frequently 
referred  to  by  Shakespeare ; 
II.  iii.  121. 

Goes  even,  agrees,  tallies ;  V.  i. 

239- 

Good  life,  jollity,  with  a  play 
upon  the  literal  meaning  of 
the  word,  "  virtuous  living  "  ; 
II.  iii.  37-39. 

Goodman,  (Folios  "  good 
man"),  a  familiar  appella- 
tion, sometimes  used  con- 
temptuously; IV.  ii.  135. 

Grace,  virtue;  V.  i.  31. 

Gracious,  full  of  graces ;  I.  v. 
272. 

Grain ;  "  in  grain,"  natural ;  I. 
v.  247. 

Gratillity;  clown  's  blunder  for 
"  gratuity  "  ;  II.  iii.  27. 

Greek;  "foolish  Greek,"  i.e. 
jester,  merrymaker  (cp. 
"  Matthew  Merrygreek "  in 
Ralph  Roister  Doistcr)  ;  "the 
Greeks  were  proverbially 
spoken  of  by  the  Romans  as 
fond  of  good  living  and  free 
potations"  (Nares)  ;  IV.  i. 
19. 

Grise,  step,  degree;  III.  i.  131. 

Grizzle,  a  tinge  of  grey  (per- 
haps a  grisly  beard)  ;  V.  i. 
164. 

Gust  =  gusto,  enjoyment ;  I.  iii. 
32. 

Haggard,     a     wild     untrained 

hawk;  III.  i.  69. 
Hale,  draw ;  III.  ii.  62. 
Haply,  perhaps;  IV.  ii.  54. 


Having,  possessions;  III.  iv. 
368. 

Heat,  course ;  I.  i.  26. 

"  Hey  Robin,  jolly  Robin,"  etc., 
an  old  ballad  (to  be  found  in 
the  Reliques,  Percy)  ;  IV.  ii. 

76-7- 

H ig h  =  highly ;  I.  i.  15. 
Hob  nob,  "  have  or  have  not, 

hit    or    miss,    at    random " ; 

III.  iv.  258. 
"  Hold  thy  peace,  thou  knave," 

and  old  three-part  catch,  so 

arranged     that     each     singer 

calls   the   other   "  knave  "    in 

turn ;  II.  iii.  66. 
Honesty,     "  decency,     love     of 

what    is   becoming " ;    II.   iii. 

89. 

Horrible,  horribly ;  III.  iv.  192. 
Hull,  float ;  I.  v.  212. 
Humour   of  state,   "  capricious 

insolence  of  authority  " ;   II. 

v.  54- 

Idleness,    frivolousness ;    I.    v. 

65. 
Impcticos,  to  impocket  or  im- 

petticoat ;  one  of  the  clown's 

nonsense  words;  II.  iii.  27. 
Importance,  importunity ;  V.  i. 

363. 
Impressure,  impression ;  II.  v. 

95- 
Incenscment,  exasperation ;  III. 

iv.  256. 
Incredulous,  incredible ;  III.  iv. 

86. 

Ingratcful,  ungrateful ;  V.  i.  76. 
Inter  changcmcnt,    interchange ; 

V.  i.  158. 
Into,  unto;  V.  i.  83. 


119 


Glossary 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Jealousy,  apprehension  ;  III.  iii. 

8. 

Jets,  struts;  II.  v.  34. 
jwcl,  a  piece  of  jewelry;  III. 

iv.  224. 
Jezebel,  used  vaguely  as  a  term 

of  reproach ;  II.  v.  43. 
Joinder,  joining;  V.  i.  156. 
Jump,  tally ;  V.  i.  252. 

Kickshaii'scs  —  kickshaws;     I. 

iii.  117. 
Kindness,  tenderness ;  II.  i.  40. 

Lapsed,  surprised;  III.  iii.  36. 
Late,  lately;  I.  ii.  30;  III.  i.  41. 
Leasing,  lying;  I.  v.  100. 
Lemon,   lover,   sweetheart;    II. 

iii.  26. 

Lenten,  scanty,  poor;  I.  v.  9. 
Lets,  hinders ;  V.  i.  249. 
Lies,  dwells  ;  III.  i.  8. 
Lighter,  inferior  in  position;  V. 

i-  339- 
Limed,  caught   with   bird-lime, 

ensnared ;  III.  iv.  80. 
List,  boundary,  limit;  III.  i.  83. 
Little,  a  little;  V.  i.  170. 
Liver,  popularly  supposed  to  be 

the  seat  of  the  emotions;  II. 

iv.  100;  III.  ii.  20. 
Love  -  broker,    agent    between 

lovers ;  III.  ii.  37. 
Lou'ly,  mean,  base;  III.  i.  106. 
Lucrcce;  "  her  L.f"  i.e.  her  seal ; 

cp.  the  following  illustration 

with  head  of  Lucrece;  II.  v. 

96. 
Lullaby,   "  good  night  " ;   V.   i. 

44- 
Maidenhead  =  maidenhood ;    I. 

v.  226. 


An  antique  ring,  01  Niello  work,  with 
the  head  of  Lucrece.  From  an  en- 
graving by  F.  W.  Fairholt. 

Malapert,  saucy,  forward ;  IV. 

i.  47- 
Malignancy,  malevolence;  II.  i. 

4- 

Maugre,  in  spite  of;  III.  i.  158. 

Meddle,  fight;  III.  iv.  271. 

Metal  (Folio  I,  "mettle"; 
Folio  2,  "nettle");  "metal 
of  India  "  ;  =  "  my  golden 
girl,  my  jewel";  (others  ex- 
plain "  nettle  of  India  "  as  the 
Urtica  marina,  a  plant  of 
itching  properties)  ;  II.  v.  15. 

Minion,  favourite,  darling;  V. 
i.  124. 

Minx,  a  pert  woman;  III.  iv. 
131- 

Miscarry,  be  lost,  die;  III.  iv. 
68. 

Misprison,  misapprehension;  I. 
v.  56. 

Mistress  Mall;  possibly  "  a 
mere  personification,"  like 
"  my  lady's  eldest  son "  in 
Much  Ado;  I.  iii.  128. 

Mollification;  "some  m.  for 
your  giant,"  i.e.  "  something 
to  pacify  your  gigantic  (  !) 
waiting-maid  ";  I.  v.  213. 

Monster,  unnatural  creature ; 
II.  ii.  35- 


120 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Glossary 


Mistress  Mall's  picture 
From  the  title-page  ol  Middleton  and 
Decker's    comedy.       The    Roaring 
Girle,  or  Moll  Cut-fur  se  (1611). 

Mortal,  deadly;  III.  iv.  281. 
Mouse,  a  term  of  endearment; 
I.  v.  64. 

Nayword,  by-word;  II.  iii.  141. 

Newly,  lately;  V.  i.  154. 

Nicely,  sophistically,  subtilely ; 
III.  i.  16. 

Non-regardance,  disregard;  V. 
i.  120. 

Not,  used  pleonastically  after 
"forbid" ;  II.  ii.  19. 

Note;  "  come  to  note,"  i.e.  "  be- 
come known  "  ;  IV.  iii.  29. 

Notorious,  notable;  V.  i.  329. 

Numbers,  measure  of  the 
verses;  II.  v.  104. 

Nuncio,  messenger ;  I.  iv.  28. 

Of  =  on;  HI.  iv.  2;  for  the 
sake  of;  V.  i.  230. 


O»  =  at;  II.  ii.  3. 

Opal,  a  precious  stone  supposed 
to  change  its  colours;  II.  iv. 
76. 

Open,  openly ;  III.  iii.  37. 

Opposite,  opponent ;  III.  ii.  66. 
III.  iv.  249. 

Opposite,  hostile;  II.  v.  150. 

Orb,  earth;  III.  i.  42. 

Orbed  continent,  the  sun;  V.  i. 
271. 

Other  gates,  in  another  way; 
V.  i.  194. 

"  O,  the  twelfth  day  of  Decem- 
ber," the  opening  of  some  old 
ballad  now  lost ;  II.  iii.  86. 

Over-swear,  repeat,  swear  over 
again ;  V.  i.  269. 

Owe  —  own ;  I.  v.  320. 

Parish-top;  alluding  to  the 
large  top  kept  in  every  vil- 
lage, for  the  peasants  to  whip 
in  frosty  weather,  for  the 
purpose  of  keeping  them- 
selves warm  and  out  of  mis- 
chief; I.  iii.  43. 

Part,  in  part,  partly;  III.  iv. 
366. 

Passages,  acts;  III.  ii.  75. 

Pass  upon  (literally,  to  thrust), 
to  make  a  push  in  fencing; 
make  sallies  of  wit ;  III.  i. 
47- 

Pedant,  schoolmaster ;  III.  ii. 
78. 

Peevish,  silly,  wilful ;  I.  v.  310. 

"  Peg-a-Ramsay,"  the  name  of 
an  old  ballad  now  unknown ; 
II.  iii.  78. 

Pcnthesilea,  the  queen  of  the 
Amazons ;  II.  iii.  183. 


121 


Glossary 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Perchance,  by  chance:  I.  ii.  6. 

Perdy,  a  corruption  of  par 
Dieu;  IV.  ii.  79. 

Perpend,  attend,  listen ;  V.  i. 
299. 

Personage,  personal  appear- 
ance ;  I.  v.  160. 

Perspective,  deception ;  V.  i. 
217. 

Pilchard,  a  fish  strongly  resem- 
bling the  herring;  III.  i.  38. 

Pipe,  voice;  I.  iv.  32. 

"  Please  one,  and  please  all." 
The  title  of  an  old  ballad 
(entered  on  the  Stationers' 
Registers  in  Jan.  18.  1591-92; 
printed  in  Staunton's  Shake- 
speare) ;  III.  iv.  25. 

Pluck  on,  excite ;  V.  i.  366. 

Point-devise,  exactly;  II.  v. 
165- 

Points,  suspenders;  I.  v.  23. 


From  a  MS.  (6976  Paris  National 
Library  of  The  Four  Sons  of 
Aynton.  The  figure  (of  a  man  par- 
tially stripped  for  execution)  shows 
how  the  "  points  "  secured  the  hose 
to  the  upper  garment. 

Possess  us,  put   us  in  posses- 
sion, tell  us ;  II.  iii.  144. 
Post,  messenger;  I.  v.  294. 


Practice,  plot ;  V.  i.  352. 
Praise  —  appraise  ;        (perhaps 

(?)  with  a  play  upon  the  two 

senses  of  praise)  ;  I.  v.  259. 
Pranks,  adorns ;  II.  iv.  88. 
Pregnant,  clever,  expert ;  II.  ii. 

29;  III.  i.  97. 
Present,  i.e.  present  wealth  ;  III. 

iv.  369. 
Presently,  immediately:  III.  iv. 

213. 
Prevented,   anticipated:    III.  i. 

90. 

Private,  privacy :  III.  iv.  97. 
Probation,  examination ;  II.  v. 

131- 

Proof;  "  vulgar  p."  common 
experience;  III.  i.  131. 

Proper,  handsome;  III.  i.  140; 
own ;  V.  i.  319. 

Proper-false,  "  well  -  looking 
and  deceitful  " ;  II.  ii.  30. 

Propertied,  taken  possession  of ; 
IV.  ii.  95- 

Propriety,  individuality,  thy- 
self; V.  i.  146. 

Pure,  purely ;  V.  i.  82. 

Question;  "in  contempt  of  q." 
past  question  ;  II.  v.  90. 

Quick,  living,  lively;  I.  i.  9. 

Quinapalus,  an  imaginary  phil- 
osopher ;  I.  v.  35. 

Quirk,  humour,  caprice ;  III.  iv. 
264. 

Receiving,  understanding,  quick 
wit ;  III.  i.  127. 

Recollected,  variously  inter- 
preted to  mean  (i)  studied; 
(2)  refined;  (3)  trivial: 
"  recollected  terms  "  perhaps 


122 


Glossary 


popular  refrains   (  ?  "  terms  " 

="  turns  "  or  "tunes");  II. 

iv.  5- 

Record,  memory ;  V.  i.  246. 
Recover,  win;  II.  iii.  190. 
Regard,  look,  glance ;  V.  i.  212. 
Reins,     is     governed     by     the 

bridle;  III.  iv.  347. 
Rcliques,  memorials  ;  III.  iii.  19. 
Renown,  make  famous;  III.  iii. 

24. 
Reverberate,  reverberating, 

echoing  ;  I.  v.  282. 
Round,  plain ;  II.  iii.  97. 
Rub  with  crums,  to  clean ;  II. 

iii.  123. 

Rubious,  red,  rosy;  I.  iv.  32. 
Rudesby,  blusterer;  IV.  i.  54. 
Rule,  behaviour;  II.  iii.  127. 

Sack,  Spanish  and  Canary 
wine ;  II.  iii.  196. 

Sad,  serious;  III.  iv.  5. 

Saint  Bennet,  probably  St.  Ben- 
net's,  Paul's  Wharf,  London, 
destroyed  in  the  great  fire; 
V.  i.  38. 

Scab,  a  term  of  reproach  or 
disgust ;  II.  v.  77. 

Scout,  watch;  III.  iv.  189. 

Self,  self-same  (perhaps  with 
the  force  of  "  exclusive," 
"absolute'")  ;  I.  i.  39. 

Scmblati-ve,  seeming,  like ;  I.  iv. 

34- 

"  Shake  your  ears,"  an  expres- 
sion of  contempt,  "  grumble 
at  your  pleasure  "  ;  II.  iii.  129. 

She,  woman ;  I.  v.  250. 

Sheep-biter,  a  cant  term  for  a 
thief;  II.  v.  5. 

Shent,  chidden;  IV.  ii.  108. 


Sheriff's  post;  alluding  to  the 
custom  of  sheriffs  setting  up 
posts  at  their  doors,  upon 
which  to  place  notices  and 
proclamations ;  I.  v.  152. 

Shrewishly,  pertly; 
I.  v.  166. 

Silly  sooth,  simple 
truth ;  II.  iv.  47. 

Sir,  gentle  man, 
lord ;  III.  iv.  79; 
title  formerly  ap- 
plied to  the  in- 
ferior c 1 e  rgy  ; 
IV.  ii.  2. 

Skilless,  inexperi- 
enced ;  III.  iii.  9. 

Skills,  matters ;  V. 
i.  288. 

Skipping,  wild, 
mad;  I.  v.  210. 

'Slid,  a  corruption 
of  "  by  God's 
lid  ";  III.  iv.  415. 

'Slight,  a  corrup- 
tion of  "  God's 
light " ;  II.  v. 
35 ;  HI.  ii.  12.  Sherifps  Post' 

Sneck    ub     an    ex    From  a  speci" 
ijnecu    up,    an    ex-      men    p re- 
clamation    of      served  at 
Norwich. 

contempt;     go 

and  be  hanged ;  II.  iii.  96. 
Sophy,  Shah  of  Persia ;  II.  v. 

184;  III.  iv.  301. 
Sound,  clear;  I.  iv.  33. 
Sowter,  name  of  a  hound;  II.  v. 

125. 
Spinsters,  female  spinners ;  II. 

iv.  45- 

Spoke,  said;  I.  iv.  20. 
Squash,  an  immature  peascod; 

I.  v.  162. 


123 


Glossary 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Stable,  steady;  IV.  iii.  19. 
Standing    water,    between    the 

ebb  and  flood  of  the  tide;  I. 

v.  164. 

Slaniel  (Folios,  "  stallion,"  cor- 
rected by   Hanmer),   a  kind 

of  hawk ;  II.  v.  116. 
«SVate:=condition,  fortune ;  I.  v. 

288;  V.  i.  63. 

State,  chair  of  State;  II.  v.  47. 
Stitches,  a  sharp  pain ;  III.  ii. 

71- 

Stock,  stocking;  I.  iii.  138. 
Stone-bow,  "a  cross-bow,  from 

which  stones  or  bullets  were 

shot";  II.  v.  48. 
Stoup,  a  drinking  vessel ;  II.  iii. 

124. 
Strange,    stout,    reserved    and 

proud;  II.  v.  173. 
Strange,  estranged ;  V.  i.  212. 
Strangeness,  reserve ;  IV.  i.  16. 
Strangle,  suppress ;  V.  i.  146. 
Stuck,    stoccato,    a    thrust    in 

fencing;  III.  iv.  297. 
Substractors;  Sir  Toby's  blun- 
der for  "  detractors  " ;  I.  iii. 

36. 

Suited,  clad;  V.  i.  234. 
Supportance,     upholding ;     III. 

iv.  322. 


Swabber,  one  who  scrubs  the 
ship's  deck;  I.  v.  212. 

Swarths,  swaths ;  II.  iii.  155. 

Sweeting,  a  term  of  endear- 
ment ;  II.  iii.  43. 

Tabor,  an  instrument  used  by 
professional  clowns ;  III.  i.  2. 

Taffeta,  a  fine  smooth  stuff  of 
silk;  II.  iv.  75. 

Tainting  of,  bringing  discredit 
upon;  V.  i.  137. 

Take  up,  acknowledge ;  V.  i. 
147- 

Tall,  used  ironically ;  I.  iii.  20. 

Tang,  twang;  II.  v.  152. 

Tartar,  Tartarus ;  II.  v.  210. 

Taste,  put  to  use,  try;  III.  i. 84. 

Taxation,  tax,  demand;  I.  v. 
219. 

Tender,  hold  dear;  V.  i.  125. 

Terms,  words.  "  recollected 
terms,"  -vide;  II.  iv.  5. 

Testril,  sixpence;  II.  iii.  34. 

"  There  dwelt  a  man  in  Baby- 
lon," a  line  from  the  old 
ballad  of  Susanna  (cp.  Ro- 
meo and  Juliet,  II.  iv.  151)  ; 
II.  iii.  81. 

"  Three  merry  men  be  we," 
a  fragment  of  an  old  song; 


i  f>   .P  r    d  r 

-^     J  J1  .      ^!  j 

Three  merry  men,  and   three  merry  men,  and 
m^Tr-f>    \    -"tntfrrfFo     p   J   .1    .  ...j..".i 

j     «'    r  i4  '  '   '     -^ 

three    merry    men    be             we,           . 

-fl  —  j>  e  •  —  •  -i 

in  the  wood  and 

jU'7    !—  r  r  P- 

€g—     x     •    '.    '•    t- 

=M^^M1 

on  the  ground.  And    Jack  sleeps    in       the 
From  Naylor's  Shakespeare  and  Music. 


124 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Glossary 


frequently  quoted  by  the 
dramatists  (cp.  Chappell's 
Popular  Music)  ;  II.  iii.  78. 

Throw,  a  throw  with  the  dice, 
hence  "  cast,  or  venture  " ; 
V.  i.  41- 

Tillyvally,  an  exclamation  of 
contempt ;  II.  iii.  80. 

Time-pleaser,  timeserver,  flat- 
terer; II.  iii.  153. 

Tinkers,  menders  of  old  brass ; 
"  proverbial  tipplers  and 
would-be  politicians  "  ;  II.  iii. 
90. 

Trade,  business ;  III.  i.  80. 

Travel  of  regard,  looking 
about;  II.  v.  55. 

Tray-trip,  a  game  like  back- 
gammon ;  II.  v.  193. 

Trouble;  "your  tr."  the  trouble 
I  have  caused  you;  II.  i.  34. 

Trunks,  alluding  to  the  elabo- 
rately carved  chests  in  use  in 
Shakespeare's  time;  III.  iv. 

393- 
Tuck,  rapier;  III.  iv.  240. 


Tuck. 

From  a  specimen  in  the  possession  of  Lord 
Londesborough. 


Unprizablc,  invaluable  ;  V.  i.  54. 
Unprofitcd,     profitless ;     I.     iv. 

22. 

Upon,    because    of,    in    conse- 
quence of;  V.  i.  361. 
Use,  usury;  III.  i.  55. 

Validity,  value ;  I.  i.  12. 

Venerable,  worthy  of  venera- 
tion; III.  iv.  386. 

Vice,  the  buffoon  of  the  old 
morality  plays ;  IV.  ii.  128. 

Viol-de-gamboys;  Sir  Toby's 
blunder  for  viol  da  gamba,  a 
bass-viol  or  violoncello,  a 
fashionable  instrument  of 
that  time;  I.  iii.  25. 

Vo  u  chsafed, 
vouch- 
safing;III. 


Wainro  pes, 
waggo  n- 
ropes ;  III. 
ii.  62. 


Viol-de-gamboys- 
F  r  o  m    the   alchemial 
MS.  in  the  Harleian 
collection. 


Unauspicious,  inauspicious ;  V. 

i.  112. 
Unchary,    heedlessly ;    III.    iv. 

218. 

Ungird,  relax ;  IV.  i.  16. 
Unhatched,      "  unbacked,      not 

blunted  by  blows " ;   III.  iv. 

253- 


Ware;  "  Bed  of  Ware  " ;  a  huge 
bed,  capable  of  holding 
twelve  persons ;  formerly  at 
the  Saracen's  Head  Inn  at 
Ware,  and  now  at  the  Rye- 
House;  III.  ii.  49.  (See  il- 
lustration.) 

Was,  had  been;  IV.  iii.  6. 


125 


Glossary 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Waters;  "  I  am  for  all  waters," 
i.e.  "  I  can  turn  my  hand  to 
anything :  like  a  fish,  I  can 
swim  equally  well  in  all  wa- 
ters " ;  IV.  ii.  66. 

Weaver;  alluding  perhaps  to 
the  psalm-singing  propensi- 
ties of  the  weavers  ;  II.  iii.  60. 

Weeds,  garments;  V.  i.  255. 


"Westward-hoi"  an  exclama- 
tion often  used  by  the  boat- 
men on  the  Thames ;  III.  i. 
141. 

What,  at  which ;  IV.  iii.  30. 

What 's  she  =  who  is  she ;  I.  ii. 

35- 

Whiles  =  while  ;  III.  iii.  41 : 
until ;  IV.  iii.  29. 


The  Great  Bed,  at  Ware. 


Welkin,  sky;  II.  iii.  58;  III.  i. 

63- 

Well-a-day,  an  exclamation  ex- 
pressive of  grief ;  "  welaway," 
alas!  IV.  ii.  112. 

Were  best,  had  better;  III.  iv. 
12. 

Were  better,  had  better ;  II. 
ii.  27. 


Whipstock,  whip-handle;  II. 
iii.  28. 

Windy,  safe ;  III.  iv.  177. 

With,  by ;  I.  v.  86. 

Wits;  "  five  wits,"  viz.,  "  com- 
mon wit,  imagination,  fan- 
tasy, estimation,  and  mem- 
ory " ;  IV.  ii.  go. 

Woodcock,    a    bird    popularly 


126 


supposed  to  have  no  brains, 
hence  the  word  was  com- 
monly used  for  a  fool;  II.  v. 
85;  IV.  ii.  61. 

Worth,  substance,  wealth  ;   III. 
iii.  17. 

Yare,  ready,  active ;  III.  iv.  240. 
'  Yeoman   of   the  wardrobe,'   a 


Glossary 

regular  title  of  office  in 
Shakespeare's  time;  II.  v. 
42. 

Zanies ;  "  subordinate  buffoons 
whose  office  was  to  make 
awkward  attempts  at  mimick- 
ing the  tricks  of  the  pro- 
fessional clown  "  ;  I.  v.  91. 


127 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Critical  Notes. 

BY   ISRAEL   GOLLANCZ. 


I.  i.  5.  'sound';  so  the  Folios;  Pope  changed  it  to  '  south',  and 
editors  have  generally  accepted  this  emendation,  but  it  seems  un- 
necessary :  Grant  White  appropriately  asks,  "  Did  Pope,  or  the 
editors  who  have  followed  him,  ever  lie  musing  on  the  sward  at 
the  edge  of  a  wood,  and  hear  the  low  sweet  hum  of  the  summer 
air,  as  it  kissed  the  coyly-shrinking  wild  flowers  upon  the  banks, 
and  passed  on  loaded  with  fragrance  from  the  sweet  salute?" 

I.  i.  22.  '  like  fell  and  cruel  hounds ' ;  referring  to  the  story  of 
Actaeon. 

I.  i.  38.  '  all  supplied,  and  fill'd ' ;  the  comma  after  '  supplied '  is 
not  in  the  Folio:  its  insertion  simplifies  the  lines.  Others  leave 
the  Folio  reading,  but  bracket  '  her  sweet  perfections  ''  in  the  next 
line ;  making  them  appositional  to  '  thrones.' 

I.  i.  15.  'Arion    on    the   dolphin's   back';    the    Folios    misprint 


Arion  on  the  dolphin's  back. 

From  B.  Kiichlpr's  Retr&sentatio  der  FiirstlicJien  Auffzug.  . 
Herrenjoh.  Friednch  Hertzogen  zu  Wiitttenberg  (1609). 

128 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Notes 

'Orion'  for  'Anon.'  Cp.  the  famous  passage — "  Oberon's 
Vision  " — in  Midsummer-Night's  Dream. 

I.  iii.  70-71.  '  bring  your  hand  to  the  buttery-bar  and  let  it 
drink ' ;  "a  proverbial  phrase  among  Abigails,  to  ask  at  once  for 
a  kiss  and  a  present  "  (KenrickJ. 

I.  iii.  96.  '  Then  hadst  thou  had  an  excellent  head  of  hair  ' ;  Sir 
Toby  evidently  plays  upon  '  tongues  '  and  '  tongs  '  (i.  e.  curling- 
tongs). 

I.  iii.  120.  '  an  old  man ' ;  Theobald  proposed  to  read  '  a  noble 
man,'  taking  the  allusion  to  be  to  Orsino.  Clarke  explains  '  an  old 
man  '  as  '  a  man  of  experience  ' ;  "  the  word  old"  he  adds,  "  gives 
precisely  that  absurd  effect  of  refraining  from  competing  in  danc- 
ing, fencing,  etc.,  with  exactly  the  antagonist  incapacitated  by  age 
over  whom  Sir  Andrew  might  hope  to  prove  his  superiority." 

I.  iii.  141.  '  That's  sides  and  heart';  Sir  Andrew  and  Sir  Toby 
are  wrong  in  the  parts  assigned  to  Taurus  in  the  old  astrological 
figures  of  the  human  body.  Taurus  was  supposed  to  govern  the 
neck  and  throat. 

I.  iv.  3.     '  three  days ' ;   Mr.  Daniel  points  out  in  his    '  Time 
Analysis '   that   this   statement   is   inconsistent   with    the    Duke's 
words  in  V.  i.  102,  '  Three  months  this  youth  hatli  tended  upon 
me.' 

II.  i.  17.  '  Mcssalinc ' ;  possibly  an  error  for  Mitylene,  as  Capell 
conjectured. 

II.  iii.  17.  '  the  picture  of  "we  three"';  "a  common  sign,  in 
which  two  wooden  heads  are  exhibited  with  this  inscription  under 
it,  '  We  three  loggerheads  be,'  the  spectator  being  supposed  to 
make  the  third"  (Malone). 

II.  iii.  23-25.  '  Pigrogromitus  .  .  .  of  Queubus'  etc.  Mr. 
Swinburne  sees  in  these  '  freaks  of  nomenclature '  the  direct  influ- 
ence of  Rabelais  (cp.  A  Study  of  Shakespeare,  pp.  155,  156). 

II.  iii.  40.  'O  mistress  mine,'  etc.;  "this  tune  is  contained  in 
both  the  editions  of  Morley's  Consort  Lessons,  1599  and  1611.  It 
is  also  found  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  Virginal  Book,  arranged  by 
Boyd.  As  it  is  to  be  found  in  print  in  1599.  it  proves  either  that 
Shakespeare's  Twelfth  Night  was  written  in  or  before  that  year, 
or  that,  in  accordance  with  the  then  prevailing  custom,  '  O  mis- 
tress mine,'  was  an  old  song,  introduced  into  the  play  "  (Chappell's 
Popular  Music  of  the  Olden  Time). 

II.  iii.  117.  '  Out  o'  tune,  sir:  ye  lie';  Theobald  proposed 
'  rime,  sir?'  which  has  been  very  generally  adopted.  The  reading 
of  the  Folios  may  well  stand  without  change.  Sir  Toby  says  to 

129 


Notes  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

the  Clown  that  he  is  out  of  tune  and  lies  in  declaring  '  no,  no,  no, 
you  dare  not'  (i.e.  dare  not  bid  Malvolio  go).  Hence  next  words 
'  Art  any  more  than  a  steward,'  addressed  to  Malvolio. 

II.  v.  41.  '  the  lady  of  the  Strachy ' ;  this  is  one  of  the  unset- 
tled problems  in  Shakespeare.  Hunter  ingeniously  suggested  that 
Shakespeare  ridicules,  in  the  scene  between  the  Clown,  as  Sir 
Topas,  and  Malvolio  (IV.  ii.),  the  exorcisms  by  Puritan  ministers, 
in  the  case  of  a  family  named  Starchy  (1596-99),  and  that  the  dif- 
ficult Strachy  was  a  hint  to  the  audience  to  expect  subsequent  allu- 
sion to  the  Starchy  affair.  Others  suggest  '  Strossi,'  '  Stracci,' 
'  Stratarch.'  Halliwell  refers  to  a  Russian  word  meaning  lawyer  or 
judge.  The  incident  of  a  lady  of  high  rank  marrying  her  steward 
is  the  subject  of  Webster's  Duchess  of  Malfy. 

II.  v.  65,  66.  '  with  cars ' ;  so  Folio  i ;  the  later  Folios,  '  zvith 
cares';  Johnson,  'with  carts';  many  emendations  have  been  pro- 
posed. Clarke  defends  the  original  reading,  and  compares  '  A 
team  of  horse  shall  not  pluck  that  from  me '  (Two  Gentlemen,  III. 
i.  265);  Hanmer's  suggestion  'by  t/i'  cars'  has  been  generally 
adopted. 

II.  v.  155.  'yellow  stockings':  these  were  much  worn  in  Shake- 
speare's time,  and  have  still  survived  to  our  own  day  in  the  yellow 
stockings  worn  by  the  '  Blue  Coat  boys.' 

III.  i.  54.  '  these,'  i.e.  these  coins  which  Viola  has  given  him. 
III.  i.  60.  '  Cressida  was  a   beggar ' ;   '  according  to  the   story 

Cressida  finally  became  a  leper  and  begged  by  the  roadside.' 

III.  i.  69.  '  And,  like  the  haggard,  check  at  every  feather ' ;  so 
the  Folios  ;  Johnson  proposed  '  not '  for  '  and,'  and  this  reading  has 
reasonably  been  adopted  by  most  editors  ;  '  to  check  '  is  "a  term  in 
falconry,  applied  to  a  hawk  when  she  forsakes  her  proper  game, 
and  follows  some  other  of  inferior  kind  that  crosses  her  in  her 
flight  " ;  the  meaning  therefore  of  the  Folio  reading  would  be 
'  that  he  must  catch  at  every  opportunity,'  but  this  does  not  suit 
the  context:  the  wise  Clown  must  be  discriminative;  hence  John- 
son's '  not.' 

III.  i.  73.  'wise  men,  f  oily-fall 'n,  quite  taint  their  wit':  Folio 
i,  '  wisemens  folly  falne';  Hanmer  and  Warburton,  'wise  men's 
folly  shown';  the  text  is  Theobald's,  and  is  generally  adopted 

III.  i.  128.  '  a  cypress,  not  a  bosom,  Hides  my  heart ' ;  the  force 
of  these  words  has,  it  would  seem,  been  missed ;  the  point  of  the 
'  cypress'  is  not  its  blackness  but  its  transparency.  Cp.  '  The  Bal- 
lad of  Robin  Hood,  Scarlet  and  John  ' : — 

130 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Notes 


"  Cypress  over  her  face. 

Through  which  her  rose-like  cheeks  did  blush 
All  in  a  comely  grace." 

'Bosom'  must,  I  think,  be  used  in  this  passage  in  the  sense  of 
'  the  bosom  of  the  dress '  which  conceals  the  body.  Olivia  says, 
'  you  can  see  my  heart ;  a  thin  gauze  as  it  were  hides  it,  not  a 
stomacher.' 

III.  ii.  26.  '  sailed  into  the  north,'  etc. ;  perhaps  this  is  a  refer- 
ence to  the  discovery  of  Northern  Nova  Zembla  by  the  Dutch- 
man Barenz  in  1506.  (Cp.  C.  H.  Coote's  paper  on  '  the  new  map' 
I.  83.  New  Sliakespeare  Society  Publications,  1878). 

III.  ii.  68  '  youngest  wren  of  nine';  Folio,  'mine,'  emended  by 
Theobald.  The  wren  is  said  to  lay  nine  or  ten  eggs  at  a  time, 
and  the  last  hatched  nestling  is  usually  the  smallest  of  the  whole 
brood. 

III.  ii.  83.  '  the  new  map  with  the  augmentation  of  the  Indies' ; 
no  doubt  a  reference  to  the  map  which  Hallam,  in  his  Literature 
of  Europe,  calls  '  the  best  map  of  the  i6th  century  ' :  it  is  found  in 
the  first  edition  of  Hakluyt's  Voyages  (1589),  but  as  it  records  dis- 
coveries made  at  least  seven  years  later,  it  was  in  all  probability  a 


Part  (showing  Borneo,  Celebes,  etc.  1  of  a  map  of  the  Indies  in  Linschoten's 
Discours  of  Voyages  into  the  E.  and  IV.  Indies  (1598). 


Notes  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

separate  map,  well  known  at  the  time,  and  made  so  as  to  be  in- 
serted in  Hakluyt:  the  author  was  probably  Mr.  Emmerie  Mol- 
lineux,  who  was  also  the  first  Englishman  to  make  a  terrestrial 
globe.  It  is  noteworthy  that  the  map  shows  a  marked  develop- 
ment of  the  geography  of  India  proper,  etc.  (Cp.  Transactions  of 
the  New  Shakespeare  Society,  1877-79)  • 

III.  iii.  15.     'And   thanks;   and   ever   [thanks,   and]    oft   good 
turns.'     The  Cambridge  editors  indicate  by  dots  that  some  word 
has  dropped  out  between  'ever'  and  'oft.'     Many  emendations 
have  been  proposed.     Theobald's  suggestion  has  been  adopted ;  the 
Old  Spelling  Shakespeare  reads 

'And  thanks;  and,  ever  oft,  good  turns    .    .    . 

'  ever  oft '  in  the  sense  of  '  with  perpetual  frequency.' 

IV.  i.  14-15.  '/  am   afraid   this  great  lubber,   the  ^vorld,  will 
prove  a  cockney ' ;  so  the  Folios ;  the  lines  evidently  mean  "  I  am 
afraid  affectation  and  foppery  will  overspread  the  world  "  (John- 
son) ;  it  has  been  proposed  to  change  'world'  into  'word'   (i.e. 
with   reference   to  'vent'):    others    read    '  this    great    lubberly 
world ' ;   Knight  explains  that  the  words  are  spoken  aside,  and 
mean,  '  I  am  afraid  the  world  will  prove  this  great  lubber  (Sebas- 
tian)   a  cockney.'     This   seems   very   strained,  and  probably   the 
simplest  reading  of  the  passage  is  the  best. 

IV.  ii.  14.  '  the  old  hermit  of  Prague ' ;  Douce  points  out  that  the 
allusion  is  "  not  to  the  celebrated  heresiarch,  Jerome  of  Prague, 
but  another  of  that  name,  born  likewise  at  Prague,  and  called  the 
hermit  of  Camaldoli  in  Tuscany." 

IV.  ii.  40.  'clearstories';  Folio  i,  '  cleere  stores';  Folio  2, 
'  cleare  stones';  the  reading  adopted  is  Blakeway's  conjecture  in 
Boswell :  '  clerestory '  is  the  name  given  to  the  windows  above  the 
arches  of  the  nave  of  a  Gothic  church. 

IV.  ii.  135.  ' goodman   devil';    Folio    i,    'good    man    diuell'; 
Rowe's  '  goodman  Drivel,'  seems  the  most  plausible  emendation,  if 
any  is  necessary  ;  Folio  2  reads  '  good  man  Direll.' 

V.  i.  113.  'My  soul   the  faithfull'st  offerings    hath    breathed 
out';  the  Folios  '  haue,'  corrected  by  Capell,  but  probably  Shake- 
speare's own  reading ;  the  plural  for  the   singular,  owing  to  the 
plural  object  ('faithfull'st  offerings')  preceding  the  verb. 

V.  i.  200-1.  'a  passy  measures  pavin';  Folio  i,  ' panyn';  Folio 
2,  'Pavin';  various  emendations  have  been  suggested,  but  there 
is  little  doubt  that  the  reading  in  the  text  is  the  correct  one.  '  Pas- 
sy measures'  is  a  corruption  of  the  Italian  ' passamesso,'  which 

132 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Notes 


word  Florio  explains  as  '  a  passa-incasurc  in  dancing,  a  cinque 
pace ' ;  it  was  a  slow  dance,  differing  little  from  the  action  of  walk- 
ing. '  Pavin '  was  a  grave  Spanish  dance.  Cp.  Naylor's  Shake- 
speare and  Music,  201  ff.  According  to  Halliwell,  the  passy  meas- 
ures pavin  is  described  as  follows  in  an  early  MS.  list  of  dances : — • 


Passo-e-mezzo.  Pavana. 

From  //  Ballarino  di  M.  Fabritio  Caroso  da  Sermoneta  (Venice,  1581). 

"  The  passinge  measure  Pavyon — 2  singles  and  a  double  forward, 
and  2  singles  syde. — Reprince  back."  Sir  Toby  means,  therefore, 
that  '  the  surgeon  is  a  rogue  and  a  grave  solemn  coxcomb.' 

V.  i.  362.  'against.'     Tyrwhitt's    conjecture    'in'    has    a    good 
deal  in  its  favour ;  '  against '  may  have  been  caught  from  line  360. 


133 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Explanatory  Notes. 

The  Explanatory  Notes  in  this  edition  have  been  specially  selected  and 
adapted,  with  emendations  after  the  latest  and  best  authorities,  from  the 
most  eminent  Shakespearian  scholars  and  commentators,  including  Johnson, 
Malone,  Steevens,  Singer,  Dyce,  Hudson,  White,  Furness,  Dowden,  and 
others.  This  method,  here  introduced  for  the  first  time,  provides  the  best 
annotation  of  Shakespeare  ever  embraced  in  a  single  edition. 

ACT  FIRST. 
Scene  I. 

[Duke.]  Hudson  in  his  "  abstract  of  the  tale  as  told  by  Barnaby 
Rich,  from  which,"  he  says,  "  a  pretty  fair  estimate  of  the  Poet's . 
obligations  may  be  easily  made  out,"  further  remarks :  "  A  certain 
duke,  named  Apolonius,  had  served  a  year  in  the  wars  against  the 
Turk.  Returning  homewards  by  sea,  he  was  driven  by  stress  of 
weather  to  the  isle  of  Cyprus,  where  he  was  well  received  by 
Pontus,  the  governor,  whose  daughter  Silla  fell  so  deeply  in  love 
with  him,  that  after  his  departure  to  Constantinople  she  forsook 
home  in  pursuit  of  him.  having  persuaded  her  man  Pedro  to  go 
along  with  her.  For  security  against  such  perils  and  injuries  as 
are  apt  to  befall  young  ladies  in  her  situation,  she  assumed  the 
dress  and  name  of  her  brother  Silvio,  who  was  absent  from  home 
when  she  left.  Coming  to  Constantinople,  she  inquired  out  the 
residence  of  Apolonius,  and  presented  herself  before  him,  craving 
to  be  his  servant ;  and  he,  being  well  disposed  towards  strangers, 
and  liking  her  appearance,  took  her  into  his  service.  Her  smooth 
and  gentle  behaviour  soon  won  his  confidence,  and  her  happy  dili- 
gence in  waiting  upon  him  caused  her  to  be  advanced  above  all  the 
rest  of  his  servants  in  credit  and  trust." 

5-7.  like  the  sweet  sound,  etc. : — Milton  seems  to  have  had  this 
in  his  eye  when  he  wrote  the  richly- freighted  lines: — 

"  Now  gentle  gales, 

Fanning  their  odoriferous  wings,  dispense  • 

Native  perfumes,  and  whisper  whence  they  stole 
Those  balmy  spoils." 

134 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Notes 

22,  23.  like  fell  and  cruel  hounds,  etc. : — Shakespeare  seems  to 
think  men  cautioned  against  too  great  familiarity  with  forbidden 
beauty  by  the  fable  of  Actaeon,  who  saw  Diana  naked,  and  was 
torn  to  pieces  by  his  hounds ;  as  a  man  indulging  his  eyes  or  his 
imagination  with  a  view  of  a  woman  he  cannot  gain,  has  his  heart 
torn  with  incessant  longing.  An  interpretation  far  more  elegant 
and  natural  than  Bacon's,  who,  in  his  Wisdom  of  the  Ancients, 
supposes  this  story  to  warn  us  against  inquiring  into  the  secrets 
of  princes,  by  showing  that  those  who  know  that  which  for  rea- 
sons of  state  ought  to  be  concealed  will  be  detected  and  destroyed 
by  their  own  servants.  Malone  thinks  that  Shakespeare  had  seen 
and  here  recalled  Daniel's  5th  Sonnet: — 

"  Whilst  youth  and  error  led  my  wand'ring  mind. 

And  sette  my  thoughts  in  heedles  waies  to  range, 
All  unawares  a  goddesse  chaste  I  finde, 

(Diana  like)  to  worke  my  suddaine  change. 

My  thoughts,  like  hounds,  pursue  me  to  my  death,"  etc. 
Daniel  in  turn  may  have  drawn  upon  Whitney's  Emblems,  1586: — 

"  those  whoe  do  pursue 

Theire  fancies  fonde,  and  thinges  unlawfull  crave, 
Like  brutishe  beastes  appeare  unto  the  viewe, 
And  shall  at  length  Actaeon's  guerdon  have : 
And  as  his  howndes,  so  theire  affections  base 
Shall  them  devoure,  and  all  theire  deedes  deface." 

Whitney  may  have  recurred  to  Adlington's  dedication  to  his 
translation  of  the  Golden  Ass  of  Apuleius :  "  For  by  the  fable  of 
Actaeon,  .  .  .  may  be  meant,  that  when  a  man  casteth  his  eies 
on  the  vaine  and  soon-fading  beauty  of  the  world,  consenting 
thereto  in  his  minde,  he  seemes  to  be  turned  into  a  bruite  beast, 
and  so  to  be  slaine  through  the  inordinate  desire  of  his  own 
affects." 

30.  season  : — The  Poet  elsewhere  uses  season  in  this  sense. 
Thus  in  Romeo  and  Juliet,  II.  iii.  69-72 : — 

"  Jesu  Maria,  what  a  deal  of  brine 
Hath  wash'd  thy  sallow  cheeks  for  Rosaline ! 
How  much  salt  water  thrown  away  in  waste, 
To  season  love  !  " 

135 


Notes  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Scene  II. 

15.  Arion  : — Rolfe  says:  "  The  allusion  is  to  the  classical  story 
of  the  minstrel  Arion,  who,  when  the  sailors  were  about  to  mur- 
der him  for  his  money,  asked  leave  to  play  a  '  swan-song'  before 
he  died,  after  which  he  threw  himself  into  the  sea,  and  was  borne 
safely  to  land  by  one  of  the  dolphins  that  had  gathered  about  the 
ship  to  listen  to  his  music."  Halliwell  observes  that  the  simile 
was  familiar  to  the  Poet  and  his  audience,  both  from  the  classical 
story  and  from  its  frequent  introduction  into  the  masques  and 
pageants  of  the  day. 

28,  29.  1  have  heard,  etc.: — "One  of  Shakespeare's  subtle 
touches  in  dramatic  art,"  says  Clarke.  "  By  the  mention  of  Vio- 
la's father  having  spoken  of  the  Duke  we  are  led  to  see  the  source 
of  her  interest  in  Orsino ;  and  by  the  word  bachelor  we  are  made 
to  see  the  peculiar  nature  of  that  interest." 

56.  as  an  eunuch : — This  plan  of  Viola's  was  not  pursued,  as  it 
would  have  been  inconsistent  with  the  plot  of  the  play.  She  was 
presented  as  a  page,  not  as  a  eunuch. 

Scene  V. 

166.  shrewishly  : — "  It  is  worthy  of  note,"  says  Clarke,  "  not  only 
how  Olivia  is  so  much  struck  by  the  sauciness  of  the  page- 
messenger,  whose  manner  is  so  different  from  the  usual  deference 
with  which  Orsino's  envoys  treat  her  as  to  interest  her  in  the 
youth  even  before  she  sees  him,  but  it  is  also  to  be  remarked  how 
Viola  assumes  flippancy  when  coming  from  the  Duke,  although, 
while  in  his  house,  speaking  to  either  himself  or  his  gentlemen, 
she  maintains  the  most  quiet,  distant,  and  even  reservedly  digni- 
fied speech  and  conduct." 

213.  Some  mollification  for  your  giant : — Ladies  in  romance  are 
guarded  by  giants.  Viola,  seeing  the  waiting-maid  so  eager  to 
oppose  her  message,  entreats  Olivia  to  pacify  her  giant ;  an  ironical 
allusion  to  Maria's  smallness  of  stature. 

270.  In  voices  well  divulged : — Perhaps  well-reputed  for  his 
knowledge  in  languages,  which  was  esteemed  a  great  accomplish- 
ment in  the  Poet's  time;  or  the  meaning  may  be  well  voiced  or 
spoken  of  by  others. 

304.  Unless  the  master  were  the  man : — Malone  interprets  this 
passage  as  follows :  "  Unless  the  dignity  of  the  master  were 
added  to  the  merit  of  the  servant,  I  shall  go  too  far  and  disgrace 

136 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Notes 

myself."  Steevens  says  she  may  mean,  "  this  is  unbecoming  for- 
wardness on  my  part,  unless  I  were  as  much  in  love  with  the 
master  as  I  am  with  the  man."  Clarke  explains  it :  "  Unless  the 
master's  love  for  me  were  felt  by  the  man." 

319.  Mine  eye,  etc.: — She  fears  that  her  eyes  had  formed  so 
flattering  an  idea  of  the  supposed  youth  Cesario,  that  she  may 
not  have  strength  of  mind  sufficient  to  resist  the  impression. 

321.  be  this  so : — Hudson  in  his  "  abstract  of  the  tale  as  told 
by  Barnaby  Rich,"  thus  continues  the  argument :  "  At  this  time 
there  dwelt  in  the  city  a  lady  widow  named  Julina,  whose  husband 
had  lately  died,  leaving  her  large  possessions  and  rich  livings,  and 
who,  moreover,  surpassed  all  the  ladies  of  Constantinople  in 
beauty.  Her  attractions  of  course  proved  too  much  for  the  Duke : 
he  became  an  earnest  suitor  to  the  lady,  and  employed  his  new 
servant  to  carry  his  love-tokens  and  forward  his  suit.  Thus,  be- 
sides her  other  afflictions,  this  piece  of  disguised  sweetness  had  to 
endure  the  greater  one  of  being  the  instrument  to  work  her  own 
mishap,  and  of  playing  the  attorney  in  a  cause  that  made  against 
herself;  nevertheless,  being  altogether  desirous  to  please  her 
master,  and  caring  nothing  at  all  to  offend  herself,  she  urged  his 
suit  with  as  much  zeal  as  if  it  had  been  her  own  preferment.  But 
'twas  not  long  till  Silla's  sweetness  stole  through  her  disguise 
right  into  the  heart  of  the  lady  Julina,  who  at  length  got  so  entan- 
gled with  the  often  sight  of  this  sweet  temptation,  that  she  fell  as 
much  in  love  with  the  servant  as  the  master  was  with  herself. 
Thus  things  went  on,  till  one  day  Silla,  being  sent  with  a  message 
to  the  lady,  began  to  solicit  very  warmly  for  the  Duke,  when 
Julina  interrupted  her,  saying,  '  Silvio,  it  is  enough  that  you  have 
said  for  your  master :  henceforth  either  speak  for  yourself,  or  say 
nothing  at  all.' " 

ACT  SECOND. 
Scene  I. 

35.  murder  me : — It  may  be  that  in  this  passage  reference  is  had 
to  a  superstition  thus  indicated  by  Sir  Walter  Scott  in  The  Pirate : 
When  Mordaunt  has  rescued  Cleveland  from  the  sea,  and  is  try- 
ing to  revive  him,  Bryce,  the  pedler.  says  to  him,  "Are  you  mad? 
you,  that  have  so  long  lived  in  Zetland,  to  risk  the  saving  of  a 
drowning  man?  Wot  ye  not,  if  you  bring  him  to  life  again,  he 
will  be  sure  to  do  you  some  capital  injury?  "  Sir  Walter  suggests 

137 


Notes  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

in  a  note  that  this  inhuman  maxim  was  probably  held  by  the 
islanders  of  the  Orkneys,  as  an  excuse  for  leaving  all  to  perish 
alone  who  were  shipwrecked  upon  their  coasts,  to  the  end  that 
there  might  be  nothing  to  hinder  the  plundering  of  their  goods; 
which  of  course  could  not  well  be  if  any  of  the  owners  survived. 
This  practice,  he  says,  continued  into  the  eighteenth  century,  and 
"  was  with  difficulty  weeded  out  by  the  sedulous  instructions  of 
the  clergy  and  the  rigorous  injunctions  of  the  proprietors." 

Scene  II. 

13.  She  took  the  ring: — Clarke  says  that  "  Viola,  perceiving  that 
Olivia  has  framed  an  excuse  to  blind  her  steward  whom  she 
sends,  and  willing  to  aid  her  in  screening  herself,  accepts  the  ver- 
sion given  of  the  ring's  having  been  sent  from  Orsino  to  the 
Countess ;  which,  moreover,  affords  a  ready  and  plausible  motive 
for  refusing  to  take  it  now  herself." 

21.  her  eyes  had  lost  her  tongue: — That  is,  says  Hudson,  "her 
eyes  were  so  charmed  that  she  lost  the  right  use  of  her  tongue, 
and  let  it  run  as  if  it  were  divided  from  her  judgement." 

Scene  III. 

10-12.  the  four  elements,  etc. : — In  ridicule  of  the  medical  theory 
of  that  time,  which  supposed  health  to  consist  in  the  just  tempera- 
ment of  the  four  elements  in  the  human  frame.  Homer  agrees 
with  Sir  Andrew  : — 

"  Strength  consists  in  spirits  and  in  blood, 
And  those  are  ow'd  to  generous  wine  and  food." 

52.  Sweet  and  twenty  appears  to  have  been  an  ancient  term  of 
endearment. 

58.  make  the  welkin  dance : — That  is,  drink  till  the   sky   seems 
to  turn  round. 

59,  60.  draw  three  souls,  etc. : — Shakespeare  represents  weavers 
much  given  to  harmony  in  his  time.     Sir  Toby  meant  that  the 
catch  should  be  so  harmonious  that  it  would  hale  the  soul  out  of 
a  weaver  thrice  over,  a  tumid  way  of  saying  that  it  would  give  this 
warm  lover  of  song  thrice  more  delight  than  it  would  give  another 
man.     Warburton  deemed  this  passage  an  allusion  to  the  three 
souls  of  the  Peripatetic  philosophy.     This  inspired  Coleridge  to 

138 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Noies 

remark:  "O  genuine  and  inimitable  (at  least  I  hope  so)  War- 
burton  !  This  note  of  thine,  if  but  one  in  five  millions,  would  be 
half  a  one  too  much." 

86.  O,  the  twelfth  day,  etc. : — With  Sir  Toby  as  wine  goes  in 
music  comes  out,  and  fresh  songs  keep  bubbling  up  in  his  memory 
as  he  waxes  mellower.  A  similar  thing  occurs  in  2  Henry  IV., 
where  Master  Silence  grows  merry  and  musical  amidst  his  cups 
in  "  the  sweet  of  the  night."  Of  the  ballads  referred  to  by 
Sir  Toby,  O,  the  twelfth  day  of  December  is  entirely  lost.  Percy 
has  one  stanza  of  There  dwelt  a  man  in  Babylon,  which  he  de- 
scribes as  "  a  poor  dull  performance,  and  very  long."  Three  merry 
men  be  we  seems  to  have  been  the  burden  of  several  old  songs, 
one  of  which  was  called  Robin  Hood  and  the  Tanner.  Peg-a- 
Ramsay,  or  Peggy  Ramsay,  was  an  old  popular  tune  which  had 
several  ballads  fitted  to  it.  Thou  knave  was  a  catch  which,  says 
Sir  John  Hawkins,  "  appears  to  be  so  contrived  that  each  of  the 
singers  calls  the  other  knave  in  turn." 

Scene  IV. 

26-39.  What  kind  of  woman,  etc. : — In  common  with  others, 
Brandes  sees  in  this  passage  a  revelation  of  the  Poet's  unhappiness 
consequent  upon  his  own  marriage.  Says  Brandes :  "  Ordinary 
knowledge  of  the  world  is  sufficient  to  suggest  that  his  association 
with  a  village  girl  eight  years  older  than  himself  could  not  satisfy 
him  or  fill  his  life.  The  study  of  his  works  confirms  this  con- 
jecture. It  would,  of  course,  be  unreasonable  to  attribute  con- 
scious and  deliberate  autobiographical  import  to  speeches  torn 
from  their  context  in  different  plays ;  but  there  are  none  the«  less 
several  passages  in  his  dramas  which  may  fairly  be  taken  as  indi- 
cating that  he  regarded  his  marriage  in  the  light  of  a  youthful 
folly."  Whereupon  Brandes  quotes  this  passage.  And  Elze, 
agreeing  with  this  view,  asks:  "Is  it  possible  not  to  recognize 
this  to  be  the  Poet's  grief  at  his  own  unfortunate  marriage  ?  " 
He  adds :  "  It  is  obviously  wisdom  that  has  sprung  from  sorrow." 
Mabie,  however,  like  Halliwell  and  others,  views  the  matter  differ- 
ently. "  The  tradition  that  he  was  an  unhappy  husband  is  based 
entirely  on  the  assumption  that,  while  his  family  remained  in 
Stratford,  for  twelve  years  he  was  almost  continuously  absent  in 
London,  and  that  he  seems  to  speak  with  deep  feeling  about  the 
disastrous  effects  of  too  great  intimacy  before  marriage,  and  of 
the  importance  of  a  woman's  marrying  a  man  older  than  herself. 

139 


Notes  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

This  is,  however,"  continues  Mabie,  "pure  inference,  and  it  is 
perilous  to  draw  inferences  of  this  kind  from  phrases  which  a 
dramatist  puts  into  the  mouths  of  men  and  women  who  are  inter- 
preting, not  their  author's  convictions  and  feelings,  but  a  phase  of 
character,  a  profound  human  experience,  or  the  play  of  that  irony 
which  every  playwright  from  -^schylus  to  Ibsen  has  felt  deeply. 
The  dramatist  reveals  his  personality  as  distinctly  as  does  the 
lyric  poet,  but  not  in  the  same  way.  Shakespeare's  view  of  life, 
his  conception  of  human  destiny,  his  attitude  toward  society,  his 
ideals  of  character,  are  to  be  found,  not  in  detached  passages 
framed  and  coloured  by  dramatic  necessities,  but  in  the  large 
and  consistent  conception  of  life  which  underlies  the  entire  body 
of  his  work." 

Scene  V. 

72.  Saying,  etc.: — "  Malvolio  the  count."  says  Lloyd,  "promises 
unbecoming  reminiscence  of  Malvolio  the  steward ;  and  Olivia, 
'left  in  a  day-bed  sleeping,'  is  forgotten  for  the  enjoyment  of  the 
branched  gown,  the  state,  the  rich  jewel,  and  the  opportunity  of 
being  surly  with  servants,  and  snubbing  his  old  enemy,  and  now 
his  kinsman.  Toby." 

82.  'One  Sir  Andrew': — It  may  be  worthy  of  remark  that  the 
leading  ideas  of  Malvolio.  in  his  humour  of  state,  bear  a  strong 
resemblance  to  those  of  Alnaschar  in  The  Arabian  Nights.  Some 
of  the  expressions  too  are  very  similar.  Many  Arabian  fictions 
had  found  their  way  into  obscure  Latin  and  French  books,  and 
from  thence  into  English  ones,  long  before  any  version  of  The 
Arabian  Nights  had  appeared.  In  The  Dialogues  of  Creatures 
Moralized,  printed  early  in  the  sixteenth  century,  a  story  similar 
to  that  of  Alnaschar  is  related. 

161.  The  Fortunate-Unhappy: — Maria's  quaint  stratagem  of  the 
letter  is  evidently  for  the  purpose  of  disclosing  to  others  what 
her  keener  sagacity  has  discovered  long  before ;  and  its  working 
lifts  her  into  a  model  of  arch  roguish  mischievousness,  with  wit 
to  plan  and  art  to  execute  whatsoever  falls  within  the  scope  of 
such  a  character.  The  scenes  where  the  waggish  troop,  headed 
by  this  "noble  gull-catcher"  and  "most  excellent  devil  of  wit," 
bewitch  Malvolio  into  "  a  contemplative  idiot."  practising  upon  his 
vanity  and  conceit  until  he  seems  ready  to  burst  with  an  ecstasy 
of  self-consequence,  and  they  "laugh  themselves  into  stitches" 
over  him,  are  almost  painfully  diverting.  At  length,  however,  our 

140 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Notes 

merriment  at  seeing  him  "  jet  under  his  advanced  plumes  ''  passes 
into  pity  for  his  sufferings,  and  we  feel  a  degree  of  resentment 
towards  his  ingenious  persecutors.  Doubtless  the  Poet  meant  to 
push  the  joke  upon  him  so  far  as  to  throw  our  feelings  over  on 
his  side,  and  make  us  take  his  part.  For  his  character  is  such 
that  perhaps  nothing  but  excessive  reprisals  on  his  vanity  could 
make  us  do  justice  to  his  real  worth. 


ACT  THIRD. 
Scene  I. 

23, 24.  words  are  very  rascals  since  bonds  disgraced  them : — 
This  is  believed  to  be  an  allusion  to  the  order  of  the  Privy  Council 
in  June,  1600,  laying  verjr  severe  restrictions  upon  stage  perform- 
ances. After  prescribing  "  that  there  shall  be  about  the  city  two 
houses  and  no  more,  allowed  to  serve  for  the  use  of  common 
stage  plays ;  of  the  which  houses,  one  shall  be  in  Surrey,  in  the 
place  commonly  called  The  Bankside,  or  thereabouts,  and  the  other 
in  Middlesex,"  the  order  runs  thus :  "  Forasmuch  as  these  stage 
plays,  by  the  multitude  of  houses  and  company  of  players,  have 
been  so  frequent,  not  serving  for  recreation,  but  inviting  and  call- 
ing the  people  daily  from  their  trade  and  work  to  misspend  their 
time ;  it  is  likewise  ordered,  that  the  two  several  companies  of 
players,  assigned  unto  the  two  houses  allowed,  may  play  each  of 
them  in  their  several  houses  twice  a  week,  and  no  oftener :  and 
especially  they  shall  refrain  to  play  on  the  Sabbath  day,  upon  pain 
of  imprisonment  and  further  penalty.  And  they  shall  forbear 
altogether  in  the  time  of  Lent,  and  likewise  at  such  time  and 
times  as  any  extraordinary  sickness,  or  infection  of  disease,  shall 
appear  to  be  in  or  about  the  city."  This,  of  course,  was  little 
short  of  entire  suppression  of  the  playhouses.  Words  were  dis- 
graced by  bonds  inasmuch  as  imprisonment  was  the  penalty  for 
violation  of  the  order. 

Scene  II. 

46.  if  thou  thou'st  him: — This  has  been  generally  thought  an 
allusion  to  Coke's  impudent  and  abusive  thouing  of  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh  at  his  trial ;  but  the  play  was  acted  a  year  and  a  half  be- 
fore that  trial  took  place.  And  indeed  it  had  been  no  insult  to 

141 


Notes  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

thou  Sir  Walter,  unless  there  were  some  preexisting  custom  or 
sentiment  to  make  it  so.  What  that  custom  was  may  be  seen  by 
the  following  passage  from  The  Rule  of  St.  Bridget :  "  None  of 
hyghenesse  schal  thou  another  in  spekynge.  but  eche  schal  speke 
reverently  to  other,  the  younger  namely  to  the  elder."  One  of 
the  authors  of  Guesses  at  Truth  has  a  very  learned  and  ingen- 
ious essay  on  the  subject,  wherein  he  quotes  the  following  from 
a  book  published  in  1661,  by  George  Fox  the  Quaker :  "  For  this 
thou  and  thee  was  a  sore  cut  to  proud  flesh,  and  them  that  sought 
self-honour;  who,  though  they  would  say  it  to  God  and  Christ, 
would  not  endure  to  have  it  said  to  themselves.  So  that  we  were 
often  beaten  and  abused,  and  sometimes  in  danger  of  our  lives, 
for  using  those  words  to  some  proud  men,  who  would  say,  What, 
you  ill-bred  clown,  do  you  thou  me !  " 

Scene  III. 

[Enter  Sebastian  and  Antonio.]  We  find  the  twin-brother 
Sebastian  to  have  conciliated  as  unconsciously  as  effectually  the 
affectionate  friendship  of  the  generous  nature  of  Antonio.  This 
Scene  interests  us  in  Sebastian  on  his  own  account,  but  even 
more  by  indicating  the  sympathy  of  his  nature  with  that  of 
Viola — it  prepares  us  to  witness  and  take  pleasure  in  his  acci- 
dental succession  to  her  favour  with  Olivia. 

Scene  IV. 

59.  midsummer  madness: — " 'Tis  midsummer  moon  with  you" 
was  a  proverbial  phrase,  signifying  you  are  mad.  It  was  an  an- 
cient opinion  that  hot  weather  affected  the  brain. 

254.  OH  carpet  consideration  : — The  meaning  of  this  may  be 
gathered  from  Randle  Holme.  Speaking  of  a  certain  class  of 
knights,  he  says,  "  They  are  termed  simply  knights  of  the  carpet, 
or  knights  of  the  green  cloth,  to  distinguish  them  from  knights 
that  are  dubbed  as  soldiers  in  the  field ;  though  in  these  days  they 
are  created  or  dubbed  with  the  like  ceremony  as  the  others  are, 
by  the  stroke  of  a  naked  sword  upon  the  shoulder." 

397.  so  do  not  I : — That  is.  "  I  do  not  yet  believe  myself,  when 
from  this  accident  I  gather  hope  of  my  brother's  life." 


142 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Notes 

ACT   FOURTH. 

Scene  I. 

20.  There  's  money  for  thec  : — Lloyd  notes  this  parallel :  "  Viola 
in  the  first  Scene,  her  shipwreck  notwithstanding,  and  from 
funds  which  we  do  not  impeach  poetical  omnipotence  by  inquiring 
into,  pays  the  Captain  bounteously  for  cheering  hopes,  '  for  saying 
so  there  's  gold.'  The  incident  has  its  use  in  removing  from  her 
from  the  first  the  unpleasant  associations  of  necessity,  and  leaving 
us  at  ease  in  the  freedom  of  her  actions  and  inclinations;  but  it 
also  enables  us  to  recognize  in  the  '  open  hand '  of  Sebastian, 
when  he  gives  money  to  the  troublesome  Clown,  the  expression 
of  twin  disposition  with  his  sister." 

Scene  II. 

24.  25.  Malvolio  the  lunatic  : — "  The  Malvolio  of  the  madhouse." 
says  Herford,  "  is  a  figure  some  degrees  less  comic  than  the  Mal- 
volio of  the  garden-scene,  and  his  indignant  yet  tempered  protest, 
when  released,  insensibly  excites  in  the  modern  reader  a  sympathy 
which  removes  him  for  the  moment  from  the  region  of  comedy 
altogether." 

61.  woodcock: — The  Clown  mentions  a  woodcock,  because  it 
was  proverbial  as  a  foolish  bird,  and  therefore  a  proper  ancestor 
for  a  man  out  of  his  wits. 

98.  the  minister  is  here: — The  Clown,  in  the  dark,  acts  two 
persons,  and  counterfeits,  by  variation  of  voice,  a  dialogue  between 
himself  and  Sir  Topas ;  the  preceding  part  of  this  speech  being 
spoken  as  Clown,  the  following  as  Priest. 

128.  vice  : — The  vice  was  the  fool  of  the  old  moralities.  He  was 
grotesquely  dressed  in  a  cap  with  ass's  ears,  and  a  long  coat,  and 
carried  a  dagger  or  lath.  One  of  his  chief  employments  was  to 
make  sport  with  the  devil,  leaping  on  his  back  and  belabouring 
him  with  his  dagger,  till  he  made  him  roar.  The  devil,  however, 
always  carried  him  off  in  the  end.  The  moral  was,  that  sin,  which 
has  the  courage  to  make  very  merry  with  the  devil,  and  is  allowed 
by  him  to  take  very  great  liberties,  must  finally  become  his  prey. 
The  lines  which  close  this  Scene  are  probably  a  part  of  some  well- 
known  old  comic  song,  resounding  the  exploits  of  that  ancient 
theatrical  personification,  the  vice. 

143 


Notes  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Scene  III. 

i.  Hudson  thus  continues  his  "abstract"  of  Barnaby  Rich: 
"  Meanwhile  Silla's  brother,  the  right  Silvio  indeed,  had  returned 
home  to  Cyprus ;  and  was  much  grieved  to  find  her  missing,  whom 
he  loved  the  more  tenderly  for  that,  besides  being  his  own  sister, 
she  was  so  like  him  in  person  and  feature  that  no  one  could  dis- 
tinguish them,  save  by  their  apparel.  Learning  how  she  had  dis- 
appeared, and  supposing  that  Pedro  had  seduced  and  stolen  her 
away,  he  vowed  to  his  father  that  he  would  not  only  seek  out  his 
sister,  but  take  revenge  on  the  servant.  In  this  mind  he  departed, 
and,  after  seeking  through  many  towns  and  cities  in  vain,  arrived 
at  Constantinople.  One  evening,  as  he  was  walking  for  recreation 
on  a  pleasant  green  without  the  walls  of  the  city,  he  chanced  to 
meet  the  lady  Julina,  who  had  also  gone  forth  to  take  the  air. 
Casting  her  eyes  upon  Silvio,  and  thinking  him  to  be  the  messen- 
ger that  had  so  often  done  enchantment  upon  her,  she  drew  him 
aside,  and  soon  courted  him  into  a  successful  courtship  of  herself. 
Of  course  she  was  not  long  in  getting  tied  up  beyond  the  Duke's 
hope." 

ACT  FIFTH. 
Scene  I. 

20.  conclusions  to  be  as  kisses: — Warburton  thought  this  should 
read,  "  conclusion  to  be  asked,  is " ;  upon  which  Coleridge  re- 
marks :  "  Surely  Warburton  could  never  have  wooed  by  kisses 
and  won,  or  he  would  not  have  flounder-flatted  so  just  and  humor- 
ous, nor  less  pleasing  than  humorous,  an  image  into  so  profound 
a  nihility.  In  the  name  of  love  and  wonder,  do  not  four  kisses 
make  a  double  affirmative?  The  humour  lies  in  the  whispered 
'  No !  '  and  the  inviting  '  Don't !  '  with  which  the  maiden's  kisses 
are  accompanied,  and  thence  compared  to  negatives,  which  by 
repetition  constitute  an  affirmative." 

158.  interchangemcnt  of  your  rings: — In  ancient  espousals  the 
man  received  as  well  as  gave  a  ring. 

164.  on  thy  casef — The  skin  of  a  fox  or  rabbit  was  often  called 
its  case.  So  in  Gary's  Present  State  of  England,  1626:  "Queen 
Elizabeth  asked  a  knight,  named  Young,  how  he  liked  a  company 
of  brave  ladies.  He  answered,  As  I  like  my  silver-haired  conies 
at  home :  the  cases  are  far  better  than  the  bodies." 

144 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Notes 

269-272.  And  all  those  sayings,  etc. : — It  is  observable  that  the 
Poet  has  left  it  uncertain  whether  Viola  was  in  love  with  the  Duke 
before  the  assumption  of  her  disguise,  or  whether  her  heart  was 
won  afterwards  by  reading  "  the  book  even  of  his  secret  soul  " 
while  wooing  another.  Nor  does  it  much  matter  whether  her 
passion  were  one  of  the  motives,  or  one  of  the  consequences,  of 
her  disguise,  since  in  either  case  such  a  man  as  Olivia  describes 
him  to  be  might  well  find  his  way  to  tougher  hearts  than  hers. 
But  her  love  has  none  of  the  skittishness  and  unrest  which  mark 
the  Duke's  passion  for  Olivia ;  complicated  out  of  all  the  elements 
of  her  richly-gifted,  sweetly-tempered  nature,  it  is  strong  without 
violence ;  never  mars  the  innate  modesty  of  her  character ;  is  deep 
as  life,  tender  as  infancy,  pure,  peaceful,  and  unchangeable  as 
truth, 

326.  Your  master's  mistress : — Hudson  concludes  his  "  abstract  " 
of  Barnaby  Rich :  "  The  appearance  of  Silla's  brother  forthwith 
brings  about  a  full  disclosure  what  and  who  she  is ;  whereupon  the 
Duke,  seeing  the  lady  widow  now  quite  beyond  his  reach,  and 
learning  what  precious  riches  are  already  his  in  the  form  of  a 
serving-man,  transfers  his  heart  to  Silla,  and  takes  her  to  his 
bosom." 

362.  Maria  writ  the  letter,  etc. : — "  Now  Maria  writ  the  letter," 
says  Daniel,  "  at  the  '  importance  '  of  her  own  love  of  mischief ; 
the  plot  originated  entirely  with  her,  though  Sir  Toby  and  the 
rest  eagerly  joined  in  it.  And  when  could  Sir  Toby  have  found 
time  for  the  marriage  ceremony  on  this  morning  which  has 
been  so  fully  occupied  by  the  plots  on  Malvolio  and  Sir  Andrew 
Aguecheek?  It  could  not  have  been  since  he  last  left  the  stage, 
for  he  was  then  drunk  and  wounded,  and  sent  off  to  bed  to  have 
his  hurts  looked  to." 

389-408.  When  that  I,  etc. : — "  It  is  to  be  regretted,  perhaps," 
says  Staunton,  "  that  this  '  nonsensical  ditty, '  as  Steevens  terms 
it,  has  not  long  since  been  degraded  to  the  foot-notes.  It  was 
evidently  one  of  those  jigs  with  which  it  was  the  rude  custom  of 
the  Clown  to  gratify  the  groundlings  upon  the  conclusion  of  a 
play.  These  absurd  compositions,  intended  only  as  a  vehicle  for 
buffoonery,  were  usually  improvisations  of  the  singer,  tagged  to 
some  popular  ballad-burden,  or  the  first  lines  of  various  songs 
strung  together  in  ludicrous  juxtaposition,  at  the  end  of  each  of 
which  the  performer  indulged  in  hideous  grimace  and  a  gro- 
tesque sort  of  '  Jump  Jim  Crow '  dance."  Weiss,  however,  finds 
it  somewhat  of  more  significance :  "  When  the  play  is  over,  the 

145 


Notes  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Duke  plighted  to  his  page,  Olivia  rightly  married  to  the  wrong 
man,  and  the  whole  romantic  ravel  of  sentiment  begins  to  be 
attached  to  the  serious  conditions  of  life,  Feste  is  left  alone  upon 
the  stage.  Then  he  sings  a  song  which  conveys  to  us  his  feeling 
of  the  world's  impartiality:  all  things  proceed  according  to  law; 
nobody  is  humoured ;  people  must  abide  the  consequences  of  their 
actions,  '  for  the  rain  it  raineth  every  day.'  A  '  little  tiny  boy ' 
may  have  his  toy ;  but  a  man  must  guard  against  knavery  and 
thieving:  marriage  itself  cannot  be  sweetened  by  swaggering; 
whoso  drinks  with  '  toss-pots '  will  get  a  '  drunken  head ' :  it  is 
a  very  old  world,  and  began  so  long  ago  that  no  change  in  its 
habits  can  be  looked  for.  The  grave  insinuation  of  this  song  is 
touched  with  the  vague,  soft  bloom  of  the  play.  As  the  noises  of 
the  land  come  over  sea  well-tempered  to  the  ears  of  islanders,  so 
the  world's  fierce,  implacable  roar  reaches  us  in  the  song,  sifted 
through  an  air  that  hangs  full  of  the  Duke's  dreams,  of  Viola's 
pensive  love,  of  the  hours  which  music  nattered.  The  note  is 
hardly  more  presageful  than  the  cricket's  stir  in  the  late  silence  of 
a  summer.  How  gracious  hath  Shakespeare  been  to  mankind  in 
this  play !  He  could  not  do  otherwise  than  leave  Feste  all  alone 
to  pronounce  its  benediction ;  for  his  heart  was  a  nest  of  songs 
whence  they  rose  to  whistle  with  the  air  of  wisdom.  Alas  for  the 
poor  fool  in  Lear  who  sang  to  drown  the  cries  from  a  violated 
nest ! " 


146 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Questions  on  Twelfth   Night. 


1.  What  position  in  the  time-scheme  of  Shakespeare's  comedies 
does  this  one  occupy? 

2.  Give  the  meaning  of  the  play. 

3.  What  characters  of  this  play  and  what  parts  of  the  action 
were  original  with  Shakespeare? 

4.  What  resemblances  in  parts  does  this  comedy  bear  to  earlier 
ones  of  Shakespeare? 

ACT  FIRST. 

5.  In  what  way  does  the  opening  passage  indicate  the  theme 
and  the  atmosphere  of  the  play? 

6.  Indicate   your    impression    of   the    Duke,    derived    from   his 
opening  speech.     In  what  sense  does  Shakespeare  here  and  else- 
where use  the  word  fancy? 

7.  To  what  kind  of  a  life  had  Olivia  devoted  herself  previous  to 
the  opening  of  the  play? 

8.  Is    such    word-play   as   Illyria-Elysium    common    in    Shake- 
speare? 

9.  How  is  Sebastian  introduced  into  the  play,  and  what  feeling 
is  conveyed  as  to  his  fate?     What  is  indicated  by  the  degree  of 
attention  given  to  him? 

10.  What  two  facts  does  Viola  furnish  about  Orsino  ?    How  do 
these  facts  assist  the  moral  credibility  of  the  plot? 

11.  What  design  has  Viola  evidently  formed  as  indicated  in  Sc. 
ii.  42  et  scq.  ? 

12.  Does    the    question    of    means    of    maintenance    enter    into 
Viola's  thought  of  her  future  ?  , 

13.  Do  Sir   Toby  and   Maria  declare  themselves  as  lovers   in 
Sc.  iii.?     How  is  Sir  Andrew's  part  in  the  action  made  clear  to 
the  spectator? 

14.  What  mental  qualities  does  Sir  Andrew  exhibit  in  his  scene 
with  Sit  Toby  and  Maria? 

147 


Questions  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

15.  Why  did  the  Duke  not  woo  for  himself?     What  directions 
concerning  her  mission  does  he  give  Viola? 

16.  What  manner  of  life  does  the  Duke  affect? 

17.  Interpret  (Sc.  v.)  God  give  them  wisdom  that  have  it;  and 
those  that  are  fools,  let  them  use  their  talents. 

18.  In  what  danger  of  his  position  does  the  Clown  stand  at  the 
opening  of  the  comedy?     How   does  he   reestablish   himself  in 
Olivia's  favour?    What  is  his  comment  on  her  mourning? 

19.  What   is   Malvolio's   opinion   of    Feste?     Account   for   his 
spleen. 

20.  How  does  Olivia  retort  upon  Malvolio? 

21.  What  parleying  occurs  before  Viola  is  introduced  to  Olivia? 
How  was  the  scene  between  Olivia  and  Sir  Toby  foreshadowed? 

22.  Consider  Malvolio's  way  of  reporting  the  persistence  of  the 
Duke's  messenger  in  the  light  of  his  opinion  of  professional  fools. 
Does  he  here  make  himself  one  of  the  fools'  sanies? 

23.  What  touch  of  humour  does  Viola  give  to  her  reply  when 
asked  if  she  is  a  comedian? 

24.  In  her  interview  with  Olivia,  how  does  Viola  in  effect  say 
all  that  the  Duke  would  have  her  say,  and  yet  avoid  the  banality 
of  repeating  his  love- speech? 

25.  Compare  the  situations  in  Twelfth  Night  and  As  You  Like 
It  of  a  woman  falling  in  love  with  a  disguised  woman;  from  the 
point  of  view  of  Olivia  and  Phebe  what  was  there  in  the  situation 
to  interest  Shakespeare? 

26.  Review  the  causes  for  the  action  that  the  first  Act  has  laid 
down. 

ACT  SECOND. 

27.  What  element  of  the  plot  was  not  introduced  in  the  first 
Act? 

28.  What    tribute   to    Viola    does    Sebastian    offer   that    would 
disprove  any  possible  theory  that  Viola  used  artifice  in  attracting 
Olivia's  attention,  and  thus  assisting  her  own  case  with  the  Duke? 

29.  Explain  the  friendship  of  Antonio  and  Sebastian. 

•  30.  How  does  Viola  discover  that  Olivia  has  fallen  in  love  with 
her?  In  her  review  of  the  facts  what  conclusion  does  she  reach? 
Imagine  Helena  so  placed:  how  would  she  have  decided? 

31.  Compare  Sir  Andrew's  and  Malvolio's  attitude  towards  the 
Clown.  What  traits  are  put  to  Sir  Andrew's  advantage?  How 
does  Sir  Andrew  compare  his  own  and  Sir  Toby's  fooling? 

148 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Questions 

32.  In  selecting  the  song  for  the  Clown  to  sing,  why  was  the 
choice  made  of  a  love-song? 

33.  How  is  the  antagonism  of  Malvolio  foreshadowed?     How 
is  Malvolio's  lack  of  imagination  indicated  by  Sir  Toby? 

34.  Was  Malvolio  a  Puritan?    What  was  the  reason  for  Maria's 
special  animus  against  him? 

35.  What  attitude  as  lovers  do  the  men  of  the  under  plot  take 
in  common  ? 

36.  What  conviction  does  the  Duke  hold  of  his  own  constancy? 
How  does  Feste  comment  on  the  fact  of  it  later? 

37.  What  is  the  Duke's  comment  on  marriage?     How  has  it 
been  interpreted  as  a  personal  confession  of  the  Poet  ?    In  holding 
the  view  that  Shakespeare  embodied  a  personal  opinion,  is  there 
any  antagonism  to  the  canon  of  dramatic  art  that  demands  ob- 
jectivity? 

38.  Does  the  situation  and  veiled  confession  of  Viola  controvert 
the  assertion  of  Orsino  (iv.  95  et  seq.)  as  to  woman's  love? 

39.  Is  there  a  noticeable  increase  in  intensity  of  passion  in  the 
Duke  as  he  dismisses  Viola  on  the  second  quest? 

40.  Why  is  Fabian  made  the  third  auditor,  instead  of  the  fool, 
as  Maria  had  promised?     What  grievance  had   Fabian   against 
Malvolio  ? 

41.  How  does  this  scene  resemble  the  one  in  All's  Well  that 
Ends  Well  when  Parolles  is  put  to  his  questions? 

42.  What  are  Malvolio's  ambitions?     What  had  evidently  been 
Olivia's  attitude  towards  him  previously? 

43.  Who  of  the  listeners  takes  the  most  unalloyed  joy  in  the 
absurd  exhibition  of  Malvolio?     Is  there  aTiy  purpose  in  bringing 
one  in  to  see  the  thing  from  the  motive  of  pure  love  of  fun  ? 

44.  What  quality  does  Malvolio  chiefly  lack?     Where  is  this 
shown  ironically  ? 

ACT  THIRD. 

45.  What  are  Viola's  comments  on  the  office  of  the  fool?    Does 
the  passage  between  Viola  and  the  Clown  contribute  anything  to 
the  progress  of  the  plot? 

46.  How  is  the  device  of  the  ring  that  Olivia  sent  after  Viola 
disposed  of? 

47.  To  what  artifice  does  Olivia  resort   for  securing  the  con- 
tinued visits  of  Viola?     Contrast  the  intellectual  sincerity  of  the 

149 


Questions  TWELFTH  NIGHT  ; 

two  women,  having  in  view  the  increased  difficulties  of  Viola's 
position. 

48.  What  is  the  reason  of  Sir  Andrew's  discouragement  over 
his  wooing  of  Olivia?     How  is  this  motive  made  to  furnish  one 
of  the  comic  episodes  of  the  play?     How  is  assurance  made  that 
the  episode  will  be  comic? 

49.  How  is  postponement  effected  to  bring  on  the  Malvolio  epi- 
sode previously  prepared  for? 

50.  How  is  expectation  as  a  dramatic  effect  wrought  to  a  high 
pitch? 

51.  What  is  the  purpose  of  the  stay  in  the  action  that  gives 
place  to  Sc.  iii.  ? 

52.  What  elements  of  this  Scene  contribute  to  the  complication? 

53.  How  is  the  occasion  for  the  duel  between  Viola  and  Sir 
Andrew  provided? 

54.  What  dramatic  necessity  requires  that  the  scene  of  Mal- 
volio's  fatuousness  before  Olivia  be  played  during  the  absence  of 
the  knights? 

55.  What   subtle   analysis    of    Malvolio's   infatuation    does    Sir 
Toby  make?    How  is  the  practical  joke  continued? 

56.  Show  how  the  complication  of  the  drama  is  completed  at 
the  duel  scene.     Without  providential  interference,   could  Viola 
have  extricated  herself  from  the  situation? 

57.  What  is  the  dramatic  purpose  of  Antonio's  mistake  in  sup- 
posing Viola  to  be  Sebastian  ? 

58.  What  is  foreshadowed  in  Sir  Andrew's  sudden  revival  of 
valour  ? 

ACT  FOURTH. 

59.  Does  the  Clown  seem  merely  avaricious,  or  is  there  some 
apprehensiveness  and  provision  for  the  future  in  his  thought  ? 

60.  What  purpose  do  you  see  in  Shakespeare's  not  bringing  the 
fool  into  the  comic  scenes  of  the  third  Act? 

61.  Do  the  mystifications  of  Sebastian  partake  of  the  nature  of 
elements  in  the  resolution? 

62.  Why  does  Feste  dress  the  part  of  the  parson,  since  Malvolio, 
whom  he  is  to  deceive,  is  out  of  sight? 

63.  What  satire  is  intended  in  the  dialogue  between   Malvolio 
and  Feste  disguised  as  Sir  Topas? 

64.  In  what  way  is  the  practical  joke  upon  Malvolio  brought  to 
an  end? 

ISO 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Questions 

65.  Does  Shakespeare,  in  the  soliloquy  that  Sebastian  utters  in 
Sc.  iii.,  covertly  insinuate  that  love  is  a  kind  of  rnadness,  even 
though  the  particular  acts  that  bear  such  a  stamp  in  the  eyes  of 
Sebastian  are  understood  by  the  spectators  to  be  within  reason  ? 
What   interpretation   do  you  put   upon    Sebastian's   readiness   to 
plight  troth  with  Olivia? 

ACT  FIFTH. 

66.  What  is  the  effect  of  the  two  accusations  put  upon  Viola 
by  Antonio  and  by  Olivia,  and  of  her  rejection  by  the  Duke? 

67.  Do  not  Malvolio's  words  in  the  second  Act.  'Tis  but  for- 
tune; all  is  fortune,  furnish  the  key  to  the  resolutions  in   this 
play? 

68.  What   is   effected   by   the   comic   interlude   where   the   two 
knights  appear  with  broken  heads? 

69.  Is  the  scene  of  recognition  convincing,  considering  that  the 
brother  and  sister  had  been  separated  but  three  months? 

70.  Why   is   it   that   the   resolution   of  many   of   Shakespeare's 
comedies  presents  situations  of  little  interest? 

71.  Does  Malvolio  end  his  dramatic  life  without  conversion? 

72.  Comment  on  the  suitability  of  the  concluding  song  to  the 
temper  of  the  play. 

73.  Are  any  of  Shakespeare's  other  masquerading  maidens  in- 
volved in  such  funny  consequential  situations  as  Viola? 

74.  Comment  on  the  sense  of  humour  which  helps  her  out  in 
her  encounters  with  the  women  of  the  play. 

75.  Describe  the  three  kinds  of  lovers  that  beset  Olivia.     Why 
does  Sir  Andrew  never  come  into  audience  with  her? 

76.  Indicate  some  points  of  Sir  Toby's  character.     What  fitness 
was  there  in  the  match  between  him  and  Maria  ?     Comment  on 
Maria's  intellectual  qualities. 

77.  What   kinship    exists    between    Sir   Andrew,    Shallow,    and 
Slender? 

78.  What    was    Shakespeare's    purpose    in    dividing    the    fun- 
making  function  between  Fabian  and  the  Clown?     What  is  Fa- 
bian's dominant  trait? 

79.  Comment  on  some  of  the  following  points  in  the  Clown's 
character :    his  knowledge  of  the  world  and  insight  into  the  true 
characters  of  those  about  him ;  his  refinement ;  his  love  of  fun ; 


Questions 

his  prudence :  his  melancholy.    What  of  his  personal  detachment 
from  the  action  of  the  play? 

80.  Malvolio  presents  what  Puritan  qualities  of  the  time?    How 
is  the  Puritan  prohibition  of  bear-baiting  dealt  with  through  him? 
As  a  lover,  what  makes  him  absurd  ?    How  near  to  him  do  lovers 
of  the  type  of  Benedick  approach  ? 

81.  What  view  of  love  and  marriage  is  subsumed  in  this  play? 

82.  Hazlitt,  in  his  essay  on  this  play,  distinguishes  three  kinds 
of  comedy ;   namely,  comedy  of  artificial  life,  comedy  of  senti- 
ment,  and   comedy  of  nature.     To  which  of  these   would  you 
assign  Twelfth  Night? 


152 


The  Tragedy  of  Othello 


Desdemona 


THE   TRAGEDY  OF   OTHELLO. 


Preface. 

The  Early  Editions.  The  First  Edition  of  Othello 
was  a  Quarto,  published  in  1622,  with  the  following  title- 
page  :— 

"  THE  j  Tragoedy  of  Othello,  |  The  Moore  of  Venice.  [ 
As  it  hath  beene  diners  times  acted  at  the  \  Globe,  and  at 
the  Black-Friers,  by  j  his  Maiesties  Seruants.  \  Written 
by  William  Shakespeare.  |  [Vignette]  |  LONDON,  |  Printed 
by  N.  O.  for  Thomas  Walkley,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  | 
shop,  at  the  Eagle  and  Child,  in  Brittans  Bursse.  |  1622."  * 

In  1623  appeared  the  First  Folio,  containing  Othello 
among  the  "Tragedies"  (pp.  310-339)  ;  the  text,  how- 
ever, was  not  derived  from  the  same  source  as  the  First 
Quarto;  an  independent  MS.  must  have  been  obtained. 
In  addition  to  many  improved  readings,  the  play  as  printed 
in  the  Folio  contained  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  verses 
omitted  in  the  earlier  edition,  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
ten  or  fifteen  lines  in  the  Quarto  were  not  represented  in 
the  Folio  version.  Thomas  Walkley  had  not  resigned  his 
interest  in  the  play ;  it  is  clear  from  the  Stationers'  Regis- 

*  Prefixed  to  this  First  Quarto  were  the  following  lines : — 
"  The  Stationer  to  the  Reader. 

"  To  set  forth  a  booke  without  an  Epistle,  were  like  to  the  old 
English  prouerbe,  A  blew  coat  without  a  badge,  &•  the  Author 
being  dead,  I  thought  good  to  take  that  piece  of  worke  upon  mee: 
To  commend  it,  I  will  not,  for  that  which  is  good  I  hope  euery 
man  will  commend,  without  interaty  :  and  I  am  the  bolder,  because 
the  author's  name  is  sufficient  to  vent  his  worke.  Thus  leauing 
cucry  one  to  the  liberty  of  iudgement:  I  haue  ventered  to  print 
this  play,  and  leaue  it  to  the  generall  censure.  Yours,  Thomas 
Walkley." 


Preface  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

ter  that  it  remained  his  property  until  March  1st,  1627 
(i.e.  1628)  when  he  assigned  "  ORTHELLO  the  More  of 
Venice  "  unto  Richard  Hawkins,  who  issued  the  Second 
Quarto  in  1630.  A  Third  Quarto  appeared  in  1655  ;  and 
later  Quartos  in  1681,  1687,  1695. 

The  text  of  modern  editions  of  the  play  is  based  on  that 
of  the  First  Folio,  though  it  is  not  denied  that  we  have  in 
the  First  Quarto  a  genuine  play-house  copy;  a  notable 
difference,  pointing  to  the  Quarto  text  as  the  older,  is  its 
retention  of  oaths  and  asseverations,  which  are  omitted  or 
toned  down  in  the  Folio  version. 

Date  of  Composition.  This  last  point  has  an  impor- 
tant bearing  on  the  date  of  the  play,  for  it  proves  that 
Othello  was  written  before  the  Act  of  Parliament  was 
issued  in  1606  against  the  abuse  of  the  name  of  God  in 
plays.  External  and  internal  evidence  seem  in  favour  of 
1604  as  the  birth-year  of  the  tragedy,  and  this  date  has 
been  generally  accepted  since  the  publication  of  the  Vari- 
orum Shakespeare  of  1821,  wherein  Malone's  views  in 
favour  of  that  year  were  set  forth  ( Malone  had  died  nine 
years  before  the  work  appeared ) .  After  putting  forward 
various  theories,  he  added : — "  We  know  it  was  acted  in 
1604,  and  I  have  therefore  placed  it  in  that  year."  For 
twenty  years  scholars  sought  in  vain  to  discover  upon 
what  evidence  he  knew  this  important  fact,  until  at  last, 
about  the  year  1840,  Peter  Cunningham  announced  his 
discovery  of  certain  Accounts  of  the  Revels  at  Court,  con- 
taining the  following  item : — 

"  By  the  King's    '  Hallamas  Day,  being  the  first  of  Nov, 
Matis  Plaicrs.      A  play  at  the  bankettinge  House  att 
Whitehall,  called  the  Moor  of  Venis 

[1604]."'* 

We  now  know  that  this  manuscript  was  a  forgery,  but 
strange  to  say,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  though 
'  the  book '  itself  is  spurious,  the  information  which  it 

*  v.  Shakespeare  Society  Publications,  1842. 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Preface 

yields  is  genuine,  and  that  Malone  had  some  such  entry 
in  his  possession  when  he  wrote  his  emphatic  statement 
(vide  Grant  White's  account  of  the  whole  story,  quoted 
in  Furness'  Variorum  edition  ;  cp.  pp.  351-357). 

The  older  school  of  critics,  and  Malone  himself  at  first, 
assigned  the  play  to  circa  1611  on  the  strength  of  the  lines, 
III.  iv.  46,  47 : — 

'  The  hearts  of  old  gave  hands ; 

But  our  new  heraldry  is  hands  not  hearts' 

which  seemed  to  be  a  reference  to  the  arms  of  the  order 
of  Baronets,  instituted  by  King  James  in  161 1  ;  Malone, 
however,  in  his  later  edition  of  the  play  aptly  quoted  a 
passage  from  the  Essays  of  Sir  William  Cornwallis,  the 
younger,  published  in  1601,  which  may  have  suggested 
the  thought  to  Shakespeare: — "They  (our  forefathers) 
had  "wont  to  give  their  hands  and  their  hearts  together, 
but  zve  think  it  a  finer  grace  to  look  asquint,  our  hand 
looking  one  way,  and  our  heart  another." 

The  Original  Othello.  From  the  elegy  on  the  death 
of  Richard  Burbage  in  the  year  1618,  it  appears  that  the 
leading  character  of  the  play  was  assigned  to  this  most 
famous  actor : — 

"  But  let  me  not  forget  one  chief est  part 
Wherein,  beyond  the  rest,  he  mov'd  the  heart, 
The  grieved  Moor,  made  jealous  by  a  slave, 
Who  sent  his  wife  to  fill  a  timeless  grave, 
Then  slew  himself  upon  the  bloody  bed. 
All  these  and  many  more  with  him  are  dead."* 

The  Source  of  the  Plot.  The  story  of  '  II  Moro  di 
Venezia '  was  taken  from  the  Heccatommithi  of  the  Italian 
novelist  Giraldi  Cinthio ;  it  is  the  seventh  tale  of  the  third 
decade,  which  deals  with  "  The  unfaithfulness  of  Hus- 
bands and  Wives."  No  English  translation  of  the  novel 

*  v.  Ingleby's  Centurie  of  Prayse  (New  Shak.  Soc.),  2nd  edi- 
tion, p.  131,  where  the  elegy  is  discussed,  and  a  truer  version 
printed. 


Preface  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

existed  in  Shakespeare's  time  (at  least  we  know  of  none), 
but  a  French  translation  appeared  in  the  year  1584,  and 
through  this  medium  the  work  may  have  come  to  Eng- 
land. Cinthio's  novel  may  have  been  of  Oriental  origin, 
and  in  its  general  character  it  somewhat  resembles  the  tale 
of  The  Three  Apples  in  The  Thousand  and  One  Nights: 
on  the  other  hand  it  has  been  ingeniously  maintained  that 
"  a  certain  Christophal  Moro,  a  Luogotenente  di  Cipro, 
who  returned  from  Cyprus  in  1508,  after  having  lost  his 
wife,  was  the  original  of  the  Moor  of  Venice  of  Giraldi 
Cinthio."  "  Fronting  the  summit  of  the  Giants'  Stair," 
writes  Mr.  Rawdon  Brown,  the  author  of  this  theory, 
"  where  the  Doges  of  Venice  were  crowned,  there  are 
still  visible  four  shields  spotted  with  mulberries  (straw- 
berries in  the  description  of  Desdemona's  handkerchief), 
indicating  that  that  part  of  the  palace  portal  on  which  they 
are  carved  was  terminated  in  the  reign  of  Christopher 
Moro,  whose  insignia  are  three  mulberries  sable  and  three 
bends  azure  on  a  field  argent ;  the  word  Moro  signifying 
in  Italian  either  mulberry-tree  or  blackamoor."  Perhaps 
Shakespeare  learnt  the  true  story  of  his  Othello  from 
some  of  the  distinguished  Venetians  in  England ;  "  Cin- 
thio's novel  would  never  have  sufficed  him  for  his 
Othello  "*  (vide  Furness,  pp.  372-389.  Knowing,  how- 
ever, Shakespeare's  transforming  power,  we  may  well 
maintain  that,  without  actual  knowledge  of  Christopher 
Moro's  history,  he  was  capable  of  creating  Othello  from 
Cinthio's  savage  Moor,  lago  from  the  cunning  cowardly 
ensign  of  the  original,  the  gentle  lady  Desdemona  from 
"  the  virtuous  lady  of  marvellous  beauty,  named  Discle- 

*  The  title  of  the  novel  summarises  its  contents  as  follows : — 
"  A  Moorish  Captain  takes  to  a  wife  a  Venetian  Dame,  and  his 
Ancient  accuses  her  of  adultery  to  her  husband :  it  is  planned 
that  the  Ancient  is  to  kill  him  whom  he  believes  to  be  the  adul- 
terer: the  Captain  kills  the  woman,  is  accused  by  the  Ancient,  the 
Moor  does  not  confess,  but  after  the  infliction  of  extreme  torture, 
is  banished;  and  the  wicked  Ancient,  thinking  to  injure  others, 
provided  for  himself  a  miserable  death."' 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Preface 

mona  (i.e.  'the  hapless  one'),"*  who  is  beaten  to  death 
"  with  a  stocking  filled  with  sand/'  Cassio  and  Emilia 
from  the  vaguest  possible  outlines.  The  tale  should  be 
read  side  by  side  with  the  play  by  such  as  desire  to  study 
the  process  whereby  a  not  altogether  artless  tale  of  hor- 
rorf  has  become  the  subtlest  of  tragedies — "  perhaps  the 
greatest  work  in  the  world."J  "  The  most  pathetic  of 
human  compositions. ''§ 

"  Dreams,  Books,  are  each  a  world :  and  books,  we  know, 
Are  a  substantial  world,  both  pure  and  good ; 
Round  them  with  tendrils  strong  as  flesh  and  blood, 
Our  pastime  and  our  happiness  will  grow. 
There  find  I  personal  theme,  a  plenteous  store, 
Matter  wherein  right  voluble  I  am, 
To  which  I  listen  with  a  ready  ear ; 
Two  shall  be  named  pre-eminently  dear, — 
The  gentle  Lady  married  to  the  Moor : 
And  heavenly  Una,  with  her  milk-white  Lamb." 

*  This  is  the  only  name  given  by  Cinthio.  Steevens  first  pointed 
out  that  "  Othello  "  is  found  in  Reynold's  God's  Revenge  against 
Adultery,  standing  in  one  of  his  arguments  as  follows: — "She 
marries  Othello,  an  old  German  soldier."  The  name  "  lago  "  also 
occurs  in  the  book.  It  is  also  found  in  "  The  first  and  second 
part  of  the  History  of  the  famous  Euordanus,  Prince  of  Den- 
mark. With  the  strange  adventures  of  logo,  Prince  of  Saxonie: 
and  of  both  their  several  fortunes  in  Love.  At  London,  1605." 

f  Mrs.  Jameson  rightly  calls  attention  to  a  striking  incident  of 
the  original  story : — Desdemona  does  not  accidentally  drop  the 
handkerchief:  it  is  stolen  from  her  by  lago's  little  child,  an  infant 
of  three  years  old,  whom  he  trains  and  bribes  to  the  theft.  The 
love  of  Desdemona  for  this  child,  her  little  playfellow — the  pretty 
description  of  her  taking  it  in  her  arms  and  caressing  it,  while 
it  profits  by  its  situation  to  steal  the  handkerchief  from  her  bosom, 
are  well  imagined  and  beautifully  told,  etc. 

$  Macaulay. 

§  Wordsworth — "  The  tragedy  of  Othello,  Plato's  records  of  the 
last  scenes  in  the  career  of  Socrates,  and  Izaak  Walton's  Life  of 
George  Herbert  are  the  most  pathetic  of  human  compositions." 
(A  valuable  summary  of  criticisms,  English  and  foreign,  will  be 
found  in  Furness's  Othello,  pp.  407-453.) 


Preface  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Duration  of  Action.  The  action  seems  to  cover  three 
days : — Act  I.,  one  day.  Interval  for  voyage.  Act  II., 
one  day.  Acts  III.,  IV.,  V.,  one  day.  In  order  to  get 
over  the  difficulty  of  this  time-division  various  theories 
have  been  advanced,  notably  that  of  Double  Time,  pro- 
pounded by  Halpin  and  Wilson ;  according  to  the  latter, 
"  Shakespeare  counts  off  days  and  hours,  as  it  were,  by 
two  clocks,  on  one  of  which  the  true  Historic  Time  is 
recorded,  and  on  the  other  the  Dramatic  Time,  or  a  false 
show  of  time,  whereby  days,  weeks,  and  months  may  be 
to  the  utmost  contracted  "  (Furness,  pp.  358-372). 

According  to  Mr.  Fleay,  the  scheme  of  time  for  the 
play  is  as  follows  : — 

Act  I.,  one  day.  Interval  for  voyage.  Act  II.,  one 
day.  Act  III.,  one  day  (Sunday).  Interval  of  a  week,  at 
least.  Act  IV.  Sc.  i.,  ii.,  iii. ;  Act  V.  Sc.  i.,  ii.,  iii.,  one 
day:  where  Act  IV.  begins  with  what  is  now  Act  III. 
Sc.  iv.,  and  Act  V.  with  the  present  Act  IV.  Sc.  iii. 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE 


Critical  Comments, 
i. 

Argument. 

I.  Desdemona,  a  beautiful  and  high-born  Venetian 
maiden,  is  wooed  and  won  by  Othello,  a  Moorish  gen- 
eral, whose  dusky  skin  cannot  conceal  a  chivalrous  and 
adventurous  spirit  such  as  women  love.     Desdemona's 
father,  Brabantio,  learning  of  their  secret  marriage,  is 
much  incensed  and  goes  before  the  Duke  of  Venice  and 
complains  that  his  daughter  has  been  stolen  from  him. 
But  it  so  happens  that  Othello's  warlike  qualities  are  in 
demand  upon  the  very  night  in  which  these  affairs  cul- 
minate.    He  has  been  in   the  service  of  the  Venetian 
government,  and  the  state  now  requires  his  presence  in 
Cypress  to  oppose  a  Turkish  fleet.     He  is  therefore  suf- 
fered to  depart  in  peace  with  his  wife  Desdemona,  espe- 
cially since  she,  in  the  council  chamber,  declares  her  love 
and  confidence  in  him. 

II.  lago,  Othello's  ancient  or  ensign,  has  sworn  se- 
cret enmity  against  his  master  because  the  Moor  raised 
Cassio  instead  of  himself  to  the  chief  lieutenancy.     The 
enmity  has  taken  the  form  of  carefully  laid  plots,  which 
began    with    the    very    nuptial    night    of    Othello.     In 
Cyprus,  whither  Othello  and  his  train  repair,  the  plots 
have  abundant  time  for  ripening.     A  storm  has  wrecked 
the  Turkish  fleet,  and  Othello  remains  in  command  on 
land  amid  a  general  revelry,  authorized  by  him,  to  cele- 
brate the  dispersion  of  the  enemy  and  in  honor  of  his 
own  nuptials.     During  the  feasting  lago  makes  Cassio 
drunk  and  involves  him  in  a  street  brawl.     Othello  ar- 
rives on  the  scene  and  deprives  the  officer  of  his  lieuten- 
ancy. 

7 


Comments  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

III.  lago  advises  Cassio  to  sue  for  favor  and  restora- 
tion of  rank  through  Desdemona,  since  Othello  will  deny 
her  nothing.     Cassio,  unsuspicious  of  treachery,  obtains 
an  interview  with  her,  and  lago  lures  Othello  to  the 
scene — innocent  enough,  but  greeted  by  lago  with  an 
ominous  shake  of  the  head.     Othello,  seeing  the  ges- 
ture, questions  his  ensign,  whereupon  the  latter  instils 
the  poison  of  jealousy  into  his  master's   ears,  making 
him  to  doubt  Desdemona's  relations  with  Cassio.     The 
doubt  is  intensified  when  that  lady,  in  the  kindness  of  her 
heart,  intercedes  for  Cassio.     Henceforward  lago  loses 
no  opportunity  to  add  to  his  master's  jealousy.     He 
procures  by  stealth  a  handkerchief  given  by  Othello  to 
Desdemona,  and  causes  it  to  be  found  in  Cassio's  pos- 
session. 

IV.  Othello   becomes   convinced   that  his   wife    has 
been  untrue  to  him.     He   determines   upon   her   death, 
and  charges  his  supposed  friend  lago  with  the  task  of 
despatching  Cassio.     Nothing  loth,  lago  embroils  Cas- 
sio in  a  night  combat  with  Roderigo,  a  former  suitor 
of  Desdemona's,  entangled  in  the  meshes  of  lago. 

V.  Cassio  wounds  Roderigo.     lago  desires  the  death 
of    both,    and    so,    unseen,    stabs    Cassio.     Meanwhile 
Othello  goes  to  Desdemona's  bedchamber  and  smothers 
her  to  death.     Emilia,   the  wife  of  lago  and  devoted 
servant  of  Desdemona,  proves  to  Othello  that  the  wife 
he  has  just  murdered  is  innocent.     lago  kills  Emilia. 
Othello  wounds  lago,  then  kills  himself.     Cassio,  who 
still  lives,  is  advanced  to  the  government  of  Cyprus, 
lago  is  reserved  for  lingering  torture. 

II. 
lago  and  Roderigo. 

Admirable  is  the  preparation,  so  truly  and  peculiarly 
Shakespearian,  in  the  introduction  of  Roderigo,  as  the 
dupe  on  whom  lago  shall  first  exercise  his  art,  and  in 

8 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Comments 

so  doing  display  his  own  character.  Roderigo,  without 
any  fixed  principle,  but  not  without  the  moral  notions 
and  sympathies  with  honour,  which  his  rank  and  con- 
nections had  hung  upon  him,  is  already  well  fitted  and 
predisposed  for  the  purpose;  for  very  want  of  character 
and  strength  of  passion,  like  wind  loudest  in  an  empty 
house,  constitute  his  character.  The  first  three  lines 
happily  state  the  nature  and  foundation  of  the  friendship 
between  him  and  lago — the  purse — as  also  the  con- 
trast of  Roderigo's  intemperance  of  mind  with  lago's 
coolness — the  coolness  of  a  preconceiving  experimenter. 
The  mere  language  of  protestation — 

If  ever  I  did  dream  of  such  a  matter,  abhor  me — 

which  falling  in  with  the  associative  link,  determines 
Roderigo's  continuation  of  complaint — 

Thou  told'st  me,  thou  didst  hold  him  in  thy  hate — 

elicits  at  length  a  true  feeling  of  lago's  mind,  the  dread 
of  contempt  habitual  to  those,  who  encourage  in  them- 
selves, and  have  their  keenest  pleasure  in,  the  expression 
of  contempt  for  others.  Observe  lago's  high  self- 
opinion,  and  the  moral,  that  a  wicked  man  will  employ 
real  feelings,  as  well  as  assume  those  most  alien  from  his 
own,  as  instruments  of  his  purposes : — 

And.  by  the  faith  of  man, 
I  know  my  place,  I  am  worth  no  worse  a  place. 

I  think  Tyrwhitt's  reading  of  "  life  "  for  "  wife  " — 
A  fellow  almost  damn'd  in  a  fair  wife — 

the  true  one,  as  fitting  to  lago's  contempt  for  whatever 
did  not  display  power,  and  that  intellectual  power.  In 
what  follows,  let  the  reader  feel  how  by  and  through 
the  glass  of  two  passions,  disappointed  vanity  and  envy, 
the  very  vices  of  which  he  is  complaining,  are  made  to 
act  upon  him  as  if  they  were  so  many  excellences,  and 
the  more  appropriately,  because  cunning  is  always  ad- 
mired and  wished  for  bv  minds  conscious  of  inward 


Comments  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

weakness; — but  they  act  only  by  half,  like  music  on  an 
inattentive  auditor,  swelling"  the  thoughts  which  pre- 
vent him  from  listening  to  it. 

COLERIDGE:  Notes  and  Lectures  upon  Shakespeare. 


Roderigo  thinks  he  is  buying  up  lago's  talents  and 
efforts.  This  is  just  what  lago  means  to  have  him 
think;  and  it  is  something  doubtful  which  glories  most, 
the  one  in  having  money  to  bribe  talents,  or  the  other 
in  having  wit  to  catch  money.  Still  it  is  plain  enough 
that  lago,  with  a  pride  of  intellectual  mastery  far 
stronger  than  his  love  of  lucre,  cares  less  for  the  money 
than  for  the  fun  of  wheedling  and  swindling  others 
out  of  it.  ... 

Still,  to  make  his  scheme  work,  he  must  allege  some 
reasons  for  his  purpose  touching  the  Moor:  for  Rod- 
erigo, gull  though  he  be,  is  not  so  gullible  as  to  entrust 
his  cause  to  a  groundless  treachery;  he  must  know 
something  of  the  strong  provocations  which  have  led 
lago  to  cherish  such  designs.  lago  understands  this 
perfectly:  he  therefore  pretends  a  secret  grudge  against 
Othello,  which  he  is  but  holding  in  till  he  can  find  or 
make  a  fit  occasion;  and  therewithal  assigns  such 
grounds  and  motives  as  he  knows  will  secure  faith  in 
his  pretence;  whereupon  the  other  gets  too  warm  with 
the  anticipated  fruits  of  his  treachery  to  suspect  any 
similar  designs  on  himself.  Wonderful  indeed  are  the 
arts  whereby  the  rogue  wins  and  keeps  his  ascendancy 
over  the  gull!  During  their  conversation,  we  can  almost 
see  the  former  worming  himself  into  the  latter,  like  a 
corkscrew  into  a  cork. 

HUDSON  :  The  Works  of  Shakespeare. 


lago  has  no  other  aim  than  his  own  advantage.  It 
is  the  circumstance  that  not  he,  but  Cassio,  has  been 
appointed  second  in  command  to  Othello,  which  first 
sets  his  craft  to  work  on  subtle  combinations.  He 


10 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Comments 

coveted  this  post,  and  he  will  stick  at  nothing  in  order 
to  win  it.  In  the  meantime,  he  takes  advantage  of 
every  opportunity  of  profit  that  offers  itself;  he  does 
not  hesitate  to  fool  Roderigo  out  of  his  money  and  his 
jewels.  He  is  always  masked  in  falsehood  and  hypoc- 
risy; and  the  mask  he  has  chosen  is  the  most  impene- 
trable one,  that  of  rough  outspokenness,  the  straight- 
forward, honest  bluntness  of  the  soldier  who  does  not 
care  what  others  think  or  say  of  him.  He  never  flatters 
Othello  or  Desdemona,  or  even  Roderigo.  He  is  the 
free-spoken,  honest  friend. 

He  does  not  seek  his  own  advantage  without  side- 
glances  at  others.  He  is  mischievousness  personified. 
He  does  evil  for  the  pleasure  of  hurting,  and  takes 
active  delight  in  the  adversity  and  anguish  of  others. 
He  is  that  eternal  envy  which  merit  or  success  in  others 
never  fails  to  irritate — not  the  petty  envy  which  is  con- 
tent with  coveting  another's  honours  or  possessions,  or 
with  holding  itself  more  deserving  of  another's  good 
fortune.  No;  he  is  an  ideal  personification.  He  is 
blear-eyed  rancour  itself,  figuring  as  a  great  power — 
nay,  as  the  motive  force — in  human  life.  He  embodies 
the  detestation  for  others'  excellences  which  shows  itself 
in  obstinate  disbelief,  suspicion,  or  contempt;  the  in- 
stinct of  hatred  for  all  that  is  open,  beautiful,  bright, 
good,  and  great. 

Shakespeare  not  only  knew  that  such  wickedness 
exists;  he  seized  it  and  set  his  stamp  on  it,  to  his  eternal 
honour  as  a  psychologist. 

Every  one  has  heard  it  said  that  this  tragedy  is  mag- 
nificent in  so  far  as  the  true  and  beautiful  characters  of 
Othello  and  Desdemona  are  concerned;  but  lago — who 
knows  him? — what  motive  underlies  his  conduct? — what 
can  explain  such  wickedness?  If  only  he  had  even  been 
frankly  in  love  with  Desdemona,  and  therefore  hated 
Othello,  or  had  had  some  other  incentive  of  a  like 
nature! 

ii 


Comments  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Yes,  if  he  had  been  the  ordinary  amorous  villain  and 
slanderer,  everything  would  undoubtedly  have  been 
much  simpler;  but,  at  the  same  time,  everything  would 
have  sunk  into  banality,  and  Shakespeare  would  here 
have  been  unequal  to  himself. 

No,  no!  precisely  in  this  lack  of  apparent  motive  lies 
the  profundity  and  greatness  of  the  thing.  Shakespeare 
understood  this.  lago  in  his  monologues  is  incessantly 
giving  himself  reasons  for  his  hatred.  Elsewhere,  in 
reading  Shakespeare's  monologues,  we  learn  what  the 
person  really  is;  he  reveals  himself  directly  to  us;  even 
a  villain  like  Richard  III.  is  quite  honest  in  his  mono- 
logues. Not  so  lago.  This  demi-devil  is  always  try- 
ing to  give  himself  reason  for  his  malignity,  is  always 
half  fooling  himself  by  dwelling  on  half  motives,  : 
which  he  partly  believes,  but  disbelieves  in  the  mai.t. 
Coleridge  has  aptly  designated  this  action  of  his  mind: 
"  The  motive-hunting  of  a  motiveless  malignity."  Again 
and  again  he  expounds  to  himself  that  he  believes  Othello 
has  been  too  familiar  with  his  wife,  and  that  he  will 
avenge  the  dishonour.  He  now  and  then  adds,  to  ac- 
count for  his  hatred  of  Cassio,  that  he  suspects  him  too 
of  tampering  with  Emilia.  He  even  thinks  it  worth 
while  to  allege,  as  a  secondary  motive,  that  he  himself 
is  enamoured  of  Desdemona. 

BRANDES  :  William  Shakespeare. 

III. 

Othello. 

Othello  must  not  be  considered  as  a  negro,  but  a  high 
and  chivalrous  Moorish  chief.  Shakespeare  learned  the 
spirit  of  the  character  from  the  Spanish  poetry,  which 
was  prevalent  in  England  in  his  time.  Jealousy  does 
not  strike  me  as  the  point  in  his  passion;  I  take  it  to 
be  rather  an  agony  that  the  creature,  whom  he  had 
believed  angelic,  with  whom  he  had  garnered  up  his 

12 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Comments 

heart,  and  whom  he  could  not  help  still  loving,  should 
be  proved  impure  and  worthless.  It  was  the  struggle 
not  to  love  her.  It  was  a  moral  indignation  and  regret 
that  virtue  should  so  fall: — "  But  yet  the  pity  of  it,  lago! 
— O  lago!  the  pity  of  it,  lago!  "  In  addition  to  this, 
his  honour  was  concerned:  lago  would  not  have  suc- 
ceeded but  by  hinting  that  his  honour  was  compro- 
mised. There  is  no  ferocity  in  Othello;  his  mind  is 
majestic  and  composed.  He  deliberately  determines  to 
die;  and  speaks  his  last  speech  with  a  view  of  showing 
his  attachment  to  the  Venetian  State,  though  it  had 
superseded  him. 

Schiller  has  the  material  Sublime;  to  produce  an 
effect,  he  sets  you  a  whole  town  on  fire,  and  throws 
infants  with  their  mothers  into  the  flames,  or  locks  up 
a  father  in  an  old  tower.  But  Shakespeare  drops  a 
handkerchief,  and  the  same  or  greater  effects  follow. 

Lear  is  the  most  tremendous  effort  of  Shakespeare 
as  a  poet;  Hamlet  as  a  philosopher  or  meditator;  and 
Othello  is  the  union  of  the  two.  There  is  something 
gigantic  and  unformed  in  the  former  two;  but  in  the 
latter,  everything  assumes  its  due  place  and  proportion, 
and  the  whole  mature  powers  of  his  mind  are  displayed 
in  admirable  equilibrium. 

COLERIDGE:  Table  Talk. 


Now  what  is  Othello?  He  is  night.  An  immense 
fatal  figure.  Night  is  amorous  of  day.  Darkness  loves 
the  dawn.  The  African  adores  the  white  woman.  Des- 
demona  is  Othello's  brightness  and  frenzy!  And  then 
how  easy  to  him  is  jealousy!  He  is  great,  he  is  digni- 
fied, he  is  majestic,  he  soars  above  all  heads,  he  has  as 
an  escort  bravery,  battle,  the  braying  of  trumpets,  the 
banner  of  war,  renown,  glory;  he  is  radiant  with  twenty 
victories,  he  is  studded  with  stars,  this  Othello:  but 
he  is  black.  And  thus  how  soon,  when  jealous,  the  hero 
becomes  monster,  the  black  becomes  the  negro!  How 

13 


Comments  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

speedily  has  night  beckoned  to  death!  By  the  side  of 
Othello,  who  is  night,  there  is  lago,  who  is  evil.  Evil, 
the  other  form  of  darkness.  Night  is  but  the  night  of 
the  world;  evil  is  the  night  of  the  soul.  How  deeply 
black  are  perfidy  and  falsehood!  To  have  ink  or  treason 
in  the  veins  is  the  same  thing.  Whoever  has  jostled 
against  imposture  and  perjury  knows  it.  One  must 
blindly  grope  one's  way  with  roguery.  Pour  hypocrisy 
upon  the  break  of  day,  and  you  put  out  the  sun,  and 
this,  thanks  to  false  religions,  happens  to  God.  lago 
near  Othello  is  the  precipice  near  the  landslip.  "  This 
way!  "  he  says  in  a  low  voice.  The  snare  advises 
blindness.  The  being  of  darkness  guides  the  black. 
Deceit  takes  upon  itself  to  give  what  light  may  be  re- 
quired by  night.  Jealousy  uses  falsehood  as  the  blind 
man  his  dog.  lago  the  traitor,  opposed  to  whiteness 
and  candour,  Othello  the  negro,  what  can  be  more  ter- 
rible! These  ferocities  of  the  darkness  act  in  unison. 
These  two  incarnations  of  the  eclipse  comprise  together, 
the  one  roaring,  the  other  sneering,  the  tragic  suffocation 
of  light. 

HUGO  :  William  Shakespeare. 


The  Moor  has  for  the  most  part  been  regarded  as 
specially  illustrating  the  workings  of  jealousy.  Whether 
there  be  anything,  and,  if  so,  how  much,  of  this  passion 
in  him,  may  indeed  be  questions  having  two  sides ;  but 
we  may  confidently  affirm  that  he  has  no  special  pre- 
disposition to  jealousy;  and  that  whatsoever  of  it  there 
may  be  in  him  does  not  grow  in  such  a  way,  nor  from 
such  causes,  that  it  can  justly  be  held  as  the  leading 
feature  of  his  character,  much  less  as  his  character  itself; 
though  such  has  been  the  view  more  commonly  taken 
of  him.  On  this  point,  there  has  been  a  strange  ignoring 
of  the  inscrutable  practices  in  which  his  passion  orig- 
inates. Instead  of  going  behind  the  scene,  and  taking 
its  grounds  of  judgement  directly  from  the  subject  him- 

14 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Comments 

self,  criticism  has  trusted  overmuch  in  what  is  said  of 
him  by  other  persons  in  the  drama,  to  whom  he  must 
perforce  seem  jealous,  because  they  know  and  can 
know  nothing  of  the  devilish  cunning  that  has  been  at 
work  with  him.  And  the  common  opinion  has  no  doubt 
been  much  furthered  by  the  stage;  lago's  villainy  being 
represented  as  so  open  and  barefaced,  that  the  Moor 
must  have  been  grossly  stupid  or  grossly  jealous  not 
to  see  through  him;  whereas,  in  fact,  so  subtle  is  the 
villain's  craft,  so  close  and  involved  are  his  designs,  that 
Othello  deserves  but  the  more  respect  and  honour  for 
being  taken  in  by  him. 

It  seems  clear  enough  that  a  passion  thus  self-gener- 
ated and  self-sustained  ought  not  to  be  confounded  with 
a  state  of  mind  superinduced,  like  Othello's,  by  forgery 
or  external  proofs, — a  forgery  wherein  himself  has  no 
share  but  as  the  victim.  And  we  may  safely  affirm  that 
he  has  no  aptitude  for  such  a  passion;  it  is  against  the 
whole  grain  of  his  mind  and  character.  lago  evidently 
knows  this;  knows  the  Moor  to  be  incapable  of  spon- 
taneous distrust ;  that  he  must  see,  before  he  '11  doubt ; 
that  when  he  doubts,  he  '11  prove ;  and  that  when  he  has 
proved,  he  will  retain  his  honour  at  all  events,  and  retain 
his  love,  if  it  be  compatible  with  honour.  Accordingly, 
lest  the  Moor  should  suspect  himself  of  jealousy,  lago 
pointedly  warns  him  to  beware  of  it;  puts  him  on  his 
guard  against  such  self-delusion,  that  so  his  mind  may 
be  more  open  to  the  force  of  evidence,  and  lest  from 
fear  of  being  jealous  he  should  entrench  himself  in  the 
opposite  extreme,  and  so  be  proof  against  conviction. 

The  struggle,  then,  in  Othello  is  not  between  love 
and  jealousy,  but  between  love  and  honour;  and  lago's 
machinations  are  exactly  adapted  to  bring  these  two 
latter  passions  into  collision.  Indeed  it  is  the  Moor's 
very  freedom  from  a  jealous  temper,  that  enables  the 
villain  to  get  the  mastery  of  him.  Such  a  character 
as  his,  so  open,  so  generous,  so  confiding,  is  just  the 

15 


Comments  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

one  to  be  taken  in  the  strong  toils  of  lago's  cunning; 
to  have  escaped  them,  would  have  argued  him  a  par- 
taker of  the  strategy  under  which  he  falls. 

HUDSON  :  The  Works  of  Shakespeare. 

IV. 

Desdemona. 

At  the  period  of  the  story  a  spirit  of  wild  adventure 
had  seized  all  Europe.  The  discovery  of  both  Indies 
was  yet  recent;  over  the  shores  of  the  western  hem- 
isphere still  fable  and  mystery  hung,  with  all  their  dim 
enchantments,  visionary  terrors,  and  golden  promises! 
perilous  expeditions  and  distant  voyages  were  every  day 
undertaken  from  hope  of  plunder,  or  mere  love  of  en- 
terprise :  and  from  these  the  adventurers  returnd  with 
tales  of  "  antres  vast  and  desarts  wild — of  cannibals  that 
did  each  other  eat — of  Anthropophagi,  and  men  whose 
heads  did  grow  beneath  their  shoulders."  With  just 
such  stories  did  Raleigh  and  Clifford,  and  their  follow- 
ers, return  from  the  New  World:  and  thus  by  their 
splendid  or  fearful  exaggerations,  which  the  imperfect 
knowledge  of  those  times  could  not  refute,  was  the 
passion  for  the  romantic  and  marvellous  nourished  at 
home,  particularly  among  the  women.  A  cavalier  of 
those  days  had  no  nearer,  no  surer  way  to  his  mistress's 
heart  than  by  entertaining  her  with  these  wondrous  nar- 
ratives. What  was  a  general  feature  of  his  time,  Shak- 
speare  seized  and  adapted  to  his  purpose  with  the  most 
exquisite  felicity  of  effect.  Desdemona,  leaving  her 
household  cares  in  haste,  to  hang  breathless  on  Othello's 
tales,  was  doubtless  a  picture  from  the  life;  and  her 
inexperience  and  her  quick  imagination  lend  it  an  added 
propriety:  then  her  compassionate  disposition  is  inter- 
ested by  all  the  disastrous  chances,  hair-breadth  'scapes, 
and  moving  accidents  by  flood  and  field,  of  which  he  has 
to  tell ;  and  her  exceeding  gentleness  and  timidity,  and 

16 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Comments 

her  domestic  turn  of  mind,  render  her  more  easily  cap- 
tivated by  the  military  renown,  the  valour,  and  lofty 
bearing  of  the  noble  Moor.  .  . 

When  Othello  first  outrages  her  in  a  manner  which 
appears  inexplicable,  she  seeks  and  finds  excuses  for 
him.  She  is  so  innocent  that  not  only  she  cannot  be- 
lieve herself  suspected,  but  she  cannot  conceive  the  ex- 
istence of  guilt  in  others. 

Something,  sure,  of  state. 

Either  from  Venice,  or  some  unhatch'd  practice 
Made  demonstrable  here  in  Cyprus  to  him, 
Hath  puddled  his  clear  spirit. 

'T  is  even  so — 

Nay,  we  must  think,  men  are  not  gods, 
Nor  of  them  look  for  such  observances 
As  fit  the  bridal. 

And  when  the  direct  accusation  of  crime  is  flung  on  her 
in  the  vilest  terms,  it  does  not  anger  but  stun  her,  as 
if  it  transfixed  her  whole  being;  she  attempts  no  reply, 
no  defence;  and  reproach  or  resistance  never  enters 
her  thought. 

And  there  is  one  stroke  of  consummate  delicacy,  sur- 
prising, when  we  remember  the  latitude  of  expression 
prevailing  in  Shakspeare's  time,  and  which  he  allowed 
to  his  other  women  generally;  she  says,  on  recovering 
from  her  stupefaction — 

Desd.  Am  I  that  name,  lago? 
logo.  What  name,  sweet  lady? 
Dcsd.  That  which  she  says  my  lord  did  say  I  was. 

So  completely  did  Shakspeare  enter  into  the  angelic 
refinement  of  the  character. 

Endued  with  that  temper  which  is  the  origin  of  super- 
stition in  love  as  in  religion — which,  in  fact,  makes  love 
itself  a  religion — she  not  only  does  not  utter  an  up- 
braiding, but  nothing  that  Othello  does  or  says,  no  out- 
rage, no  injustice,  can  tear  away  the  charm  with  which 
her  imagination  had  invested  him,  or  impair  her  faith 

17 


Comments  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

in  his  honour.     "  Would  you  had  never  seen  him!  "  ex- 
claims Emilia. 

Dcsd.  So  would  not  I ! — my  love  doth  so  approve  him. 
That  even  his  stubbornness,  his  checks  and  frowns 
Have  grace  and  favour  in  them. 

There  is  another  peculiarity,  which,  in  reading  the 
play  of  Othello,  we  rather  feel  than  perceive:  through  the 
whole  of  the  dialogue  appropriated  to  Desdemona  there 
is  not  one  general  observation.  Words  are  with  her 
the  vehicle  of  sentiment,  and  never  of  reflection;  so  that 
I  cannot  find  throughout  a  sentence  of  general  applica- 
tion. 

MRS.  JAMESON  :  Characteristics  of  Women. 

V. 
Emilia,  Instrument  of  Nemesis. 

It  is  lago's  own  wife  Emilia  whose  quick  woman's 
wit  is  the  first  to  pierce  the  web  of  intrigue,  and  stim- 
ulated by  sight  of  her  murdered  mistress  she  gives  her 
suspicions  vent,  though  at  the  point  of  her  husband's 
sword.  The  principle  underlying.  Jiis  nemesis  is  one 
of  the  profoundest  of  Shakespeare's  moral  ideas — that 
evil  not  only  corrupts  the  heart,  but  equally  undermines 
the  judgement.  To  lago  is  applicable  the  biting  sen- 
tence of  Junins:  "Virtue  and  simplicity  have  so  long 
been  synonymous  that  the  reverse  of  the  proposition 
has  grown  into  credit,  and  every  villain  fancies  himself 
a  man  of  ability."  It  is  because  he  knows  himself  un- 
fettered by  scruples  that  lago  feels  himself  infallible,  and 
considers  honest  men  fools;  he  never  sees  how  his  foul 
thoughts  have  blinded  his  perceptive  powers,  and  made 
him  blunder  where  simple  men  would  have  gone  straight. 
True,  he  brings  infinite  acuteness  to  bear  upon  the  details 
of  his  intrigues;  but  he  never  perceives,  what  the  reader 
sees  at  a  glance,  that  the  whole  ground  of  his  action 

18 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Comments 

in  these  intrigues — his  suspicions  that  Emilia  has  been 
tampered  with  by  Cassio  and  Othello — is  a  stupid  mis- 
take, which  no  one  with  any  wholesome  knowledge  of 
human  nature  would  make.  And  the  same  want  of  in- 
sight into  honest  human  nature,  which  made  him  set 
up  his  atrocious  schemes,  is  the  cause  now  of  their  fail- 
ure. He  thought  he  had  foreseen  everything:  it  never 
occurred  to  him  that  his  wife  might  betray  him  with 
nothing  to  gain  by  such  betrayal,  simply  from  affection 
and  horror. 

I  care  not  for  thy  sword ;   I  '11  make  thee  known, 
Though  I  lost  twenty  lives. — Help  !    help,  ho  !    help  ! 
The  Moor  hath  kill'd  my  mistress ! 

In  vain  lago  seeks  to  stop  her  mouth ;  a  few  words  put 
all  the  suspicious  circumstances  together,  until  in  rage 
and  spite  lago  stabs  Emilia,  though  the  blow  seals  his 
own  ruin.  This  detail  is  a  fresh  touch  in  the  perfection 
of  the  nemesis  upon  lago:  in  a  sense  different  from  what 
he  intended  he  is  now  "  evened  "  with  Othello,  "  wife 
for  wife."  The  nemesis  draws  items  of  equal  retribu- 
tion from  all  the  intrigues  of  lago.  It  was  on  account 
of  Emilia  that  he  played  the  villain,  and  it  is  Emilia  who 
betrays  him.  He  had  made  a  tool  of  Roderigo,  and 
the  contents  of  the  dead  Roderigo 's  pockets  furnish  the 
final  links  of  evidence  against  him.  His  main  purpose 
was  to  oust  Cassio  both  from  office  and  life:  Cassio 
lives  to  succeed  Othello  as  Governor,  and  make  his  first 
official  act  the  superintendence  of  lago's  torturing. 

MOULTON  :  Shakespeare  as  a  Dramatic  Artist. 

VI. 
Other  Characters. 

The  subordinate  figures  are  worked  out  with  hardly 
less  skill  than  the  principal  characters  of  the  tragedy. 
Emilia  especially  is  inimitable — good-hearted,  honest, 

19 


Comments  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

and  not  exactly  light,  but  still  sufficiently  the  daughter  of 
Eve  to  be  unable  to  understand  Desdemona's  na'ive  and 
innocent  chastity. 

At  the  end  of  Act  IV.  (in  the  bedroom  scene)  Desde- 
rnona  asks  Emilia  if  she  believes  that  there  really  are 
women  who  do  what  Othello  accuses  her  of.  Emilia 
answers  in  the  affirmative.  Then  her  mistress  asks 
again :  "  Would'st  thou  do  such  a  deed  for  all  the 
world?  "  and  receives  the  jesting  answer,  "  The  world  's 
a  huge  thing;  it  is  a  great  price  for  a  small  vice: — 

"  Marry,  I  would  not  do  such  a  thing  for  a  joint-ring,  nor  for 
measures  of  lawn,  nor  for  gowns,  petticoats,  nor  caps,  nor  any 
petty  exhibition ;  but,  for  the  whole  world !  .  .  .  Why.  the 
wrong  is  but  a  wrong  i'  the  world;  and  having  the  world  for  your 
labour,  'tis  a  wrong  in  your  own  world,  and  you  might  quickly 
make  it  right." 

In  passages  like  this  a  mildly  playful  note  is  struck  in 
the  very  midst  of  the  horror.  And  according  to  his 
habit  and  the  custom  of  the  times,  Shakespeare  also  in- 
troduces, by  means  of  the  Clown,  one  or  two  deliber- 
ately comic  passages :  but  the  Clown's  merriment  is 
subdued,  as  Shakespeare's  merriment  at  this  period 
always  is. 

BRANDES:  William  Shakespeare. 


Cassio  is  an  enthusiastic  admirer,  almost  a  worshipper, 
of  Desdemona.  O,  that  detestable  code  that  excellence 
cannot  be  loved  in  any  form  that  is  female,  but  it  must 
needs  be  selfish!  Observe  Othello's  "honest,"  and 
Cassio's  "  bold  "  lago,  and  Cassio's  full  guileless-hearted 
wishes  for  the  safety  and  love-raptures  of  Othello  and 
"  the  divine  Desdemona."  And  also  note  the  exquisite 
circumstance  of  Cassio's  kissing  lago's  wife,  as  if  it 
ought  to  be  impossible  that  the  dullest  auditor  should 
not  feel  Cassio's  religious  love  of  Desdemona's  purity, 
lago's  answers  are  the  sneers  which  a  proud  bad  intel- 
lect feels  towards  women,  and  expresses  to  a  wife. 

20 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Comments 

Surely  it  ought  to  be  considered  a  very  exalted  compli- 
ment to  women,  that  all  the  sarcasms  on  them  in  Shake- 
speare are  put  in  the  mouths  of  villains. 

COLERIDGE  :  Notes  and  Lectures  upon  Shakespeare. 

VII. 
Spiritual  Import  of  the  Play. 

Were  Othello  but  the  spirited  portrait  of  a  half-tamed 
barbarian,  we  should  view  him  as  a  bold  and  happy 
poetical  conception,  and,  as  such,  the  Poet's  work  might 
satisfy  our  critical  judgement;  but  it  is  because  it  depicts 
a  noble  mind,  wrought  by  deep  passion  and  dark  devices 
to  agonies  such  as  every  one  might  feel,  that  it  awakens 
our  strongest  sympathies.  We  see  in  this  drama  a  grand 
and  true  moral  picture;  we  read  in  it  a  profound  ethical 
lesson;  for  (to  borrow  the  just  image  of  the  classical 
Lowth)  while  the  matchless  work  is  built  up  to  the 
noblest  height  of  poetry,  it  rests  upon  the  deepest  foun- 
dations of  true  philosophy. 

VERPLANCK  :  The  Illustrated  Shakespeare, 


The  central  point  of  its  spiritual  import  lies  in  the 
contrast  between  lago  and  his  victim.  lago,  with  keen 
intellectual  faculties  and  manifold  culture  in  Italian  vice, 
lives  and  thrives  after  his  fashion  in  a  world  from  which 
all  virtue  and  all  beauty  are  absent.  Othello,  with  his  bar- 
baric innocence  and  regal  magnificence  of  soul,  must 
cease  to  live  the  moment  he  ceases  to  retain  faith  in 
the  purity  and  goodness  which  were  to  him  the  highest 
and  most  real  things  upon  earth.  Or  if  he  live,  life  must 
become  to  him  a  cruel  agony.  Shakspere  compels  us 
to  acknowledge  that  self-slaughter  is  a  rapturous  en- 
ergy— that  such  prolonged  agony  is  joy  in  comparison 
with  the  earthy  life-in-death  of  such  a  soul  as  that  of 
lago.  The  noble  nature  is  taken  in  the  toils  because  it 

21 


Comments 

is  noble.  lago  suspects  his  wife  of  every  baseness,  but 
the  suspicion  has  no  other  effect  than  to  intensify  his 
malignity.  lago  could  not  be  captured  and  constrained 
to  heroic  suffering  and  rage.  The  shame  of  every  be- 
ing who  bears  the  name  of  woman  is  credible  to  lago, 
and  yet  he  can  grate  from  his  throat  the  jarring  music: — 

"  And  let  me  the  canakin  clink,  clink  ! 
And  let  me  the  canakin  clink !  " 

There  is,  therefore,  Shakspere  would  have  us  under- 
stand, something  more  inimical  to  humanity  than  suf- 
fering— namely,  an  incapacity  for  noble  pain.  To  die 
as  Othello  dies  is  indeed  grievous.  But  to  live  as  lago 
lives,  devouring  the  dust  and  stinging — this  is  more  ap- 
palling. 

Such  is  the  spiritual  motive  that  controls  the  tragedy. 
And  the  validity  of  this  truth  is  demonstrable  to  every 
sound  conscience.  No  supernatural  authority  needs  to 
be  summoned  to  bear  witness  to  this  reality  of  human 
life.  No  pallid  flame  of  hell,  no  splendour  of  dawning 
heaven,  needs  show  itself  beyond  the  verge  of  earth  to 
illumine  this  truth.  It  is  a  portion  of  the  ascertained 
fact  of  human  nature,  and  of  this  our  moral  existence. 

DOWDEN  :  Shakspere. 


22 


The  Tragedy  of 
Othello,  The  Moor  of  Venice. 


DRAMATIS   PERSONAE. 

DUKE  OF  VENICE. 

BRABANTIO,  a  senator. 

Other  Senators. 

GRATIANO,  brother  to  Brabantio. 

LODOVICO,  kinsman  to  Brabantio. 

OTHELLO,  a  noble  Moor  in  the  sen-ice  of  the  Venetian  state. 

CASSIO,  his  lieutenant. 

I  AGO,  his  ancient. 

ROPERIGO,  a  Venetian  gentleman. 

MONTANO,  Othello's  predecessor  in  the  government  of  Cyprus. 

Clown,  servant  to  Othello. 

DESDEMONA,  daughter  to  Brabantio  and  zi'ife  to  Othello. 
EMILIA,  wife  to  logo. 
BIANCA,  mistress  to  Cassia. 

Sailor,   Messenger,   Herald.  Officers,  Gentlemen,   Musicians,  and 
Attendants. 

SCENE:  Venice:  a   seaport  in  Cyprus. 


The  Tragedy  of 
Othello,  The  Moor  of  Venice. 

ACT  FIRST. 
Scene  I. 

Venice.     A  street. 
Enter  Roderigo  and  logo. 

Rod.  Tush,  never  tell  me;   I  take  it  much  unkindly 
That  thou,  lago,  who  hast  had  my  purse 
As  if  the  strings  were  thine,  shouldst  know  of  this. 

logo.  'Sblood,  but  you  will  not  hear  me: 
If  ever  I  did  dream  of  such  a  matter, 
Abhor  me. 

Rod.  Thou  told'st  me  thou  didst  hold  him  in  thy  hate. 

lago.  Despise  me,  if  I  do  not.    Three  great  ones  of  the  city, 
In  personal  suit  to  make  me  his  lieutenant, 
Off-capp'd  to  him:  and,  by  the  faith  of  man,  10 

I  know  my  price,  I  am  worth  no  worse  a  place: 
But  he,  as  loving  his  own  pride  and  purposes, 
Evades  them,  with  a  bombast  circumstance 
Horribly  stuff 'd  with  epithets  of  war; 
And,  in  conclusion, 

Nonsuits  my  mediators;  for,  '  Certes,'  says  he, 
'  I  have  already  chose  my  officer.' 
And  wrhat  was  he? 
Forsooth,  a  great  arithmetician, 
One  Michael  Cassio,  a  Florentine,  20 

A  fellow  almost  damn'd  in  a  fair  wife; 

25 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

That  never  set  a  squadron  in  the  field, 

Nor  the  division  of  a  battle  knows 

More  than  a  spinster;   unless  the  bookish  theoric, 

Wherein  the  toged  consuls  can  propose 

As  masterly  as  he:   mere  prattle  without  practice 

Is  all  his  soldiership.    But  he,  sir,  had  the  election: 

And  I,  of  whom  his  eyes  had  seen  the  proof 

At  Rhodes,  at  Cyprus,  and  on  other  grounds 

Christian  and  heathen,  must  be  be-lee'd  and  calm'd 

By  debitor  and  creditor:  this  counter-caster,          31 

He,  in  good  time,  must  his  lieutenant  be, 

And  I — God  bless  the  mark ! — his  Moorship's  ancient. 

Rod.  By  heaven,  I  rather  would  have  been  his  hangman. 

logo.  Why,  there  's  no  remedy ;   'tis  the  curse  of  service, 
Preferment  goes  by  letter  and  affection, 
And  not  by  old  gradation,  where  each  second 
Stood  heir  to  the  first.    Now,  sir,  be  judge  yourself 
Whether  I  in  any  just  term  am  affined 
To  love  the  Moor. 

Rod.  I  would  not  follow  him  then.     40 

lago.  O,  sir,  content  you; 

I  follow  him  to  serve  my  turn  upon  him: 
Wre  cannot  all  be  masters,  nor  all  masters 
Cannot  be  truly  follow'd.    You  shall  mark 
Many  a  duteous  and  knee-crooking  knave, 
That  doting  on  his  own  obsequious  bondage 
Wears  out  his  time,  much  like  his  master's  ass, 
For  nought  but  provender,    and    when    he 's    old, 

cashier'd: 

Whip  me  such  honest  knaves.     Others  there  are 
Who,  trimm'd  in  forms  and  visages  of  duty,  5° 

Keep  yet  their  hearts  attending  on  themselves, 
And  throwing  but  shows  of  service  on  their  lords 
26 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Do  well  thrive  by  them,  and  when  they  have  lined 

their  coats 

Do  themselves  homage :  these  fellows  have  some  soul, 
And  such  a  one  do  I  profess  myself. 
For,  sir, 

It  is  as  sure  as  you  are  Roderigo, 
Were  I  the  Moor,  I  would  not  be  lago : 
In  following  him,  I  follow  but  myself; 
Heaven  is  my  judge,  not  I  for  love  and  duty, 
But  seeming  so,  for  my  peculiar  end:  60 

For  when  my  outward  action  doth  demonstrate 
The  native  act  and  figure  of  my  heart 
In  compliment  extern,  'tis  not  long  after 
But  I  will  wear  my  heart  upon  my  sleeve 
For  daws  to  peck  at:   I  am  not  what  I  am. 

Rod.  What  a  full  fortune  does  the  thick-lips  owe, 
If  he  can  carry  't  thus! 

lago.  Call  up  her  father, 

Rouse  him:  make  after  him,  poison  his  delight, 
Proclaim  him  in  the  streets;    incense  her  kinsmen, 
And,  though  he  in  a  fertile  climate  dwell,  70 

Plague  him  with  flies:  though  that  his  joy  be  joy, 
Yet  throw  such  changes  of  vexation  on  't 
As  it  may  lose  some  colour. 

Rod.  Here  is  her  father's  house;   I  '11  call  aloud. 

lago.  Do;   with  like  timorous  accent  and  dire  yell 
As  when,  by  night  and  negligence,  the  fire 
Is  spied  in  populous  citres. 

Rod.  What,  ho,  Brabantio!     Signior  Brabantio,  ho! 

lago.  Awake!     what,    ho,  Brabantio!    thieves!    thieves! 

thieves! 

Look  to  your  house,  your  daughter  and  your  bags! 
Thieves!   thieves!  81 

27 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Brabantio  appears  above,  at  a  window. 

Bra.  What  is  the  reason  of  this  terrible  summons? 
What  is  the  matter  there? 

Rod.  Signior,  is  all  your  family  within? 

logo.  Are  your  doors  lock'd? 

Bra.  Why,  wherefore  ask  you  this? 

I  ago.  'Zounds,  sir,  you  're  robb'd;    for  shame,  put  on 

your  gown; 

Your  heart  is  burst,  you  have  lost  half  your  soul; 
Even  now,  now,  very  now,  an  old  black  ram 
Is  tupping  your  white  ewe.     Arise,  arise; 
Awake  the  snorting  citizens  with  the  bell,  90 

Or  else  the  devil  will  make  a  grandsire  of  you: 
Arise,  I  say. 

Bra.  What,  have  you  lost  your  wits? 

Rod.  Most  reverend  signior,  do  you  know  my  voice? 

Bra.  Not  I:   what  are  you? 

Rod.  My  name  is  Roderigo. 

Bra.  The  worser  welcome: 

I  have  charged  thee  not  to  haunt  about  my  doors: 
In  honest  plainness  thou  hast  heard  me  say 
My  daughter  is  not  for  thee;   and  now,  in  madness, 
Being  full  of  supper  and  distempering  draughts, 
Upon  malicious  bravery,  dost  thou  come  100 

To  start  my  quiet. 

Rod.  Sir,  sir,  sir, — 

Bra.  But  thou  must  needs  be  sure  • 

My  spirit  and  my  place  have  in  them  power 
To  make  this  bitter  to  thee. 

Rod.  Patience,  good  sir. 

Bra.  What  tell'st  thou  me  of  robbing?   this  is  Venice; 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

My  house  is  not  a  grange. 

Rod.  Most  grave  Brabantio, 

In  simple  and  pure  soul  I  come  to  you. 

logo.  'Zounds,  sir,  you  are  one  of  those  that  will  not 
serve  God,  if  the  devil  bid  you.  Because  we 
come  to  do  you  service  and  you  think  we  are  no 
ruffians,  you  '11  have  your  daughter  covered  with 
a  Barbary  horse;  you'll  have  your  nephews 
neigh  to  you;  you  '11  have  coursers  for  cousins, 
and  gennets  for  germans. 

Bra.  What  profane  wretch  art  thou? 

logo.  I  am  one,  sir,  that  comes  to  tell  you  your 
daughter  and  the  Moor  are  now  making  the 
beast  with  two  backs. 

Bra.  Thou  art  a  villain. 

logo.  You  are — a  senator.  119 

Bra.  This  thou  shalt  answer;   I  know  thee,  Roderigo. 

Rod.  Sir,  I  will  answer  any  thing.    But,  I  beseech  you, 
If  *t  be  your  pleasure  and  most  wise  consent, 
As  partly  I  find  it  is,  that  your  fair  daughter, 
At  this  odd-even  and  dull  watch  o'  the  night, 
Transported  with  no  worse  nor  better  guard 
But  with  a  knave  of  common  hire,  a  gondolier, 
To  the  gross  clasps  of  a  lascivious  Moor, — 
If  this  be  known  to  you,  and  your  allowance, 
We  then  have  done  you  bold  and  saucy  wrongs ; 
But  if  you  know  not  this,  my  manners  tell  me       130 
We  have  your  wrong  rebuke.    Do  not  believe 
That,  from  the  sense  of  all  civility, 
I  thus  would  play  and  trifle  with  your  reverence: 
Your  daughter,  if  you  have  not  given  her  leave, 
I  say  again,  hath  made  a  gross  revolt, 

29 


Act  I.  Sc.i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Tying  her  duty,  beauty,  wit  and  fortunes, 

In  an  extravagant  and  wheeling  stranger 

Of  here  and  every  where.     Straight  satisfy  yourself: 

If  she  be  in  her  chamber  or  your  house, 

Let  loose  on  me  the  justice  of  the  state  140 

For  thus  deluding  you. 

Bra.  Strike  on  the  tinder,  ho! 

Give  me  a  taper!  call  up  all  my  people! 
This  accident  is  not  unlike  my  dream: 
Belief  of  it  oppresses  me  already. 
Light,  I  say!   light!  [Exit  above. 

logo.  Farewell ;  for  I  must  leave  you : 

It  seems  not  meet,  nor  wholesome  to  my  place, 
To  be  produced — as,  if  I  stay,  I  shall — 
Against  the  Moor:   for  I  do  know,  the  state. 
However  this  may  gall  him  with  some  check, 
Cannot  with  safety  cast  him :   for  he  's  embark'd 
With  such  loud  reason  to  the  Cyprus  wars,  151 

Which  even  now  stand  in  act,  that,  for  their  souls, 
Another  of  his  fathom  they  have  none 
To  lead  their  business:   in  which  regard, 
Though  I  do  hate  him  as  I  do  hell  pains, 
Yet  for  necessity  of  present  life, 
I  must  show  out  a  flag  and  sign  of  love, 
Which  is  indeed  but  sign.     That  you  shall  surely 

find  him, 

Lead  to  the  Sagittary  the  raised  search ; 
And  there  will  I  be  with  him.     So  farewell.       [Exit. 

Enter  below,  Brabantio,  in  his  night-gown,  and 
Servants  with  torches. 

Bra.  It  is  too  true  an  evil:  gone  she  is;  161 

30 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

And  what's  to  come  of  my  despised  time 
Is  nought  but  bitterness.     Now,  Roderigo, 
Where  didst  thou  see  her?    O  unhappy  girl! 
With  the  Moor,  say'st  thou  ?  Who  would  be  a  father ! 
How  didst  thou  know  'twas  she  ?  O,  she  deceives  me 
Past  thought !  W'hat  said  she  to  you  ?  Get  more  tapers. 
Raise  all  my  kindred.    Are  they  married,  think  you? 

Rod.  Truly,  I  think  they  are. 

Bra.  O  heaven!     How  got  she  out?     O  treason  of  the 
blood!  170 

Fathers,  from  hence  trust  not  your  daughters'  minds 
By  what  you  see  them  act.     Is  there  not  charms 
By  which  the  property  of  youth  and  maidhood 
May  be  abused?    Have  you  not  read,  Roderigo, 
Of  some  such  thing? 

Rod.  Yes,  sir,  I  have  indeed. 

Bra.  Call  up  my  brother.    O,  would  you  had  had  her! 
Some  one  way,  some  another.     Do  you  know 
Where  we  may  apprehend  her  and  the  Moor? 

Rod.  I  think  I  can  discover  him,  if  you  please 

To  get  good  guard  and  go  along  with  me.  180 

Bra.  Pray  you,  lead  on.    At  every  house  I  '11  call; 
I  may  command  at  most.    Get  weapons,  ho! 
And  raise  some  special  officers  of  night. 
On,  good  Roderigo;    I  '11  deserve  your  pains. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  II. 

Another  street. 
Enter  Othello,  logo,  and  Attendants  zvith  torches. 

Icigo.  Though  in  the  trade  of  war  I  have  slain  men, 
Yet  do  I  hold  it  very  stuff  o'  the  conscience 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

To  do  no  contrived  murder:   I  lack  iniquity 
Sometimes  to  do  me  service :  nine  or  ten  times 
I  had  thought  to  have  yerk'd  him  here  under  the 
ribs. 

Oth.  'Tis  better  as  it  is. 

lago.  Nay,  but  he  prated 

And  spoke  such  scurvy  and  provoking  terms 

Against  your  honour, 

That,  with  the  little  godliness  I  have, 

I  did  full  hard  forbear  him.     But  I  pray  you,  sir, 

Are  you  fast  married?    Be  assured  of  this,  n 

That  the  magnifico  is  much  beloved, 

And  hath  in  his  effect  a  voice  potential 

As  double  as  the  duke's:   he  will  divorce  you, 

Or  put  upon  you  what  restraint  and  grievance 

The  law,  with  all  his  might  to  enforce  it  on, 

Will  give  him  cable. 

Oth.  Let  him  do  his  spite: 

My  services,  which  I  have  done  the  signiory, 
Shall  out-tongue  his  complaints.    'Tis  yet  to  know — 
Which,  when  I  know  that  boasting  is  an  honour,  20 
I  shall  promulgate — I  fetch  my  life  and  being 
From  men  of  royal  siege,  and  my  demerits 
May  speak  unbonneted  to  as  proud  a  fortune 
As  this  that  I  have  reach'd:   for  know,  lago, 
But  that  I  love  the  gentle  Desdemona, 
I  would  not  my  unhoused  free  condition 
Put  into  a  circumscription  and  confine 
For  the  sea's  worth.     But,  look!    what  lights  come 
yond? 

lago.  Those  are  the  raised  father  and  his  friends: 
You  were  best  go  in. 

32 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  ii, 

Oth.  Not  I ;   I  must  be  found :         30 

My  parts,  my  title  and  my  peiiect  soul, 
Shall  manifest  me  rightly.     Is  it  they? 

lago.  By  Janus,  I  think  no. 

Enter  Cassio,  and  certain  Officers  with  torches. 

Oth.  The  servants  of  the  duke,  and  my  lieutenant. 
The  goodness  of  the  night  upon  you,  friends! 
What  is  the  news? 

Cos.  The  duke  does  greet  you,  general, 

And  he  requires  your  haste-post-haste  appearance, 
Even  on  the  instant. 

Oth.  What  is  the  matter,  think  you? 

Cas.  Something  from  Cyprus,  as  I  may  divine : 

It  is  a  business  of  some  heat:   the  galleys  40 

Have  sent  a  dozen  sequent  messengers 

This  very  night  at  one  another's  heels; 

And  many  of  the  consuls,  raised  and  met, 

Are  at  the  duke's  already:  you  have  been  hotly  call'd 

for; 

When,  being  not  at  your  lodging  to  be  found, 
The  senate  hath  sent  about  three  several  quests 
To  search  you  out. 

Oth.  'Tis  well  I  am  found  by  you. 

I  will  but  spend  a  word  here  in  the  house, 
And  go  with  you.  [Exit 

Cas.  Ancient,  what  makes  he  here? 

lago.  Faith,  he  to-night  hath  boarded  a  land  carack :    50 
If  it  prove  lawful  prize,  he  's  made  for  ever. 

Cas.  I  do  not  understand. 

lago.  He's  married. 

Cas.  To  who? 

33 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Re-enter  Othello. 

I  ago.  Marry,  to — Come,  captain,  will  you  go? 
Oth.  Have  with  you. 

Cas.  Here  comes  another  troop  to  seek  for  you. 
logo.  It  is  Brabantio:   general,  be  advised; 
He  comes  to  bad  intent. 

Enter  Brabantio,  Roderigo,  and  Officers  with  torches 
and  weapons. 

Oth.  Hallo!   stand  there! 

Rod.  Signior,  it  is  the  Moor. 

Bra.  Down  with  him,  thief! 

[They  draw  on  both  sides. 

logo.  You,  Roderigo!  come,  sir,  I  am  for  you. 

Oth.  Keep  up  your  bright  swords,  for  the  dew  will  rust 

them. 

Good  signior,  you  shall  more  command  with  years 
Than  with  your  weapons.  61 

Bra.  O  thou  foul    thief,    where    hast    thou    stow'd    my 

daughter? 

Damn'd  as  thou  art,  thou  hast  enchanted  her; 
For  I  '11  refer  me  to  all  things  of  sense, 
If  she  in  chains  of  magic  were  not  bound, 
Whether  a  maid  so  tender,  fair  and  happy, 
So  opposite  to  marriage  that  she  shunn'd 
The  wealthy  curled  darlings  of  our  nation, 
Would  ever  have,  to  incur  a  general  mock, 
Run  from  her  guardage  to  the  sooty  bosom  70 

Of  such  a  thing  as  thou,  to  fear,  not  to  delight. 
Judge  me  the  world,  if  'tis  not  gross  in  sense 
That  thou  hast  practised  on  her  with  foul  charms, 
Abused  her  delicate  youth  with  drugs  or  minerals 

34 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

That  weaken  motion:   I  '11  have  't  disputed  on; 

'Tis  probable,  and  palpable  to  thinking. 

I  therefore  apprehend  and  do  attach  thee 

For  an  abuser  of  the  world,  a  practiser 

Of  arts  inhibited  and  out  of  warrant. 

Lay  hold  upon  him:   if  he  do  resist,  80 

Subdue  him  at  his  peril. 
Oth.  Hold  your  hands, 

Both  you  of  my  inclining  and  the  rest: 

Were  it  my  cue  to  fight,  I  should  have  known  it 

Without  a  prompter.    Where  will  you  that  I  go 

To  answer  this  your  charge? 
Bra.  To  prison,  till  fit  time 

Of  law  and  course  of  direct  session 

Call  thee  to  answer. 
Oth.  What  if  I  do  obey? 

How  may  the  duke  be  therewith  satisfied, 

Whose  messengers  are  here  about  my  side, 

Upon  some  present  business  of  the  state  90 

To  bring  me  to  him? 
First  Off.  'Tis  true,  most  worthy  signior; 

The  duke  's  in  council,  and  your  noble  self, 

I  am  sure,  is  sent  for. 
Bra.  How!  the  duke  in  council! 

In  this  time  of  the  night!    Bring  him  away: 

Mine  's  not  an  idle  cause:  the  duke  himself, 

Or  any  of  my  brothers  of  the  state, 

Cannot  but  feel  this  wrong  as  'twere  their  own; 

For  if  such  actions  may  have  passage  free, 

Bond-slaves  and  pagans  shall  our  statesmen  be. 

[Exeunt. 


35 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO. 

Scene  III. 

A  council-chamber. 

The  Duke  and  Senators  sitting  at  a  table;    Officers 
attending. 

Duke.  There  is  no  composition  in  these  news 
That  gives  them  credit. 

First  Sen.  Indeed  they  are  disproportion'd; 

My  letters  say  a  hundred  and  seven  galleys. 

Dnke.  And  mine,  a  hundred  and  forty. 

Sec.  Sen.  And  mine,  two  hundred: 

But  though  they  jump  not  on  a  just  account, — 
As  in  these  cases,  where  the  aim  reports, 
'Tis  oft  with  difference, — yet  do  they  all  confirm 
A  Turkish  fleet,  and  bearing  up  to  Cyprus. 

Duke.  Nay,  it  is  possible  enough  to  judgement: 

I  do  not  so  secure  me  in  the  error,  10 

But  the  main  article  I  do  approve 
In  fearful  sense. 

Sailor.         [Within}   What,  ho!  what,  ho!   what,  ho! 

First  Off.  A  messenger  from  the  galleys. 

Enter  Sailor. 

Duke.  Now,  what 's  the  business? 

Sail.  The  Turkish  preparation  makes  for  Rhodes; 
So  was  I  bid  report  here  to  the  state 
By  Signior  Angelo. 

Dnkc.  How  say  you  by  this  change? 

First  Sen.  This  cannot  be, 

By  no  assay  of  reason:   'tis  a  pageant 
To  keep  us  in  false  gaze.    When  we  consider 
The  importancy  of  Cyprus  to  the  Turk,  2O 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 

And  let  ourselves  again  but  understand 

That  as  it  more  concerns  the  Turk  than  Rhodes, 

So  may  he  with  more  facile  question  bear  it, 

For  that  it  stands  not  in  such  warlike  brace, 

But  altogether  lacks  the  abilities 

That  Rhodes  is  dress'd  in  :  if  we  make  thought  of  this, 

We  must  not  think  the  Turk  is  so  unskilful 

To  leave  that  latest  which  concerns  him  first, 

Neglecting  an  attempt  of  ease  and  gain, 

To  wake  and  wage  a  danger  profitless.  30 

Duke.  Nay,  in  all  confidence,  he  's  not  for  Rhodes. 

First  Off.  Here  is  more  news. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  The  Ottomites,  reverend  and  gracious, 

Steering  with  due  course  toward  the  isle  of  Rhodes, 
Have  there  injointed  them  with  an  after  fleet. 

First  Sen.  Ay,  so  I  thought.    How  many,  as  you  guess? 

Mess.  Of  thirty  sail :   and  now  they  do  re-stem 

Their  backward  course,  bearing  with  frank  appearance 
Their  purposes  toward  Cyprus.    Signior  Montano 
Your  trusty  and  most  valiant  servitor,  40 

With  his  free  duty  recommends  you  thus, 
And  prays  you  to  believe  him. 

Duke.  'Tis  certain  then  for  Cyprus. 

Marcus  Luccicos,  is  not  he  in  town? 

First  Sen.    He  's  now  in  Florence. 

Duke.  Write  from  us  to  him  ;  post-post-haste  dispatch. 

First  Sen.  Here  comes  Brabantio  and  the  valiant  Moor. 

Enter  Brabantio,  Othello,  lago,  Roderigo,  and  Officers. 

Duke.  Valiant  Othello,  we  must  straight  employ  you 
Against  the  general  enemy  Ottoman. 

37 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

[To  Brabantio]   I  did  not  see  you;    welcome,  gentle 
signior ;  50 

We  lack'd  your  counsel  and  your  help  to-night. 

Bra.  So  did  I  yours.    Good  your  grace,  pardon  me; 
Neither  my  place  nor  aught  I  heard  of  business 
Hath  raised  me  from  my  bed,  nor  doth  the  general  care 
Take  hold  on  me;  for  my  particular  grief 
Is  of  so  flood-gate  and  o'erbearing  nature 
That  it  engluts  and  swallows  other  sorrows, 
And  it  is  still  itself. 

Duke.  Why,  what 's  the  matter? 

Bra.  My  daughter!    O,  my  daughter! 

All.  Dead? 

Bra.  Ay,  to  me; 

She  is  abused,  stol'n  from  me  and  corrupted        60 
By  spells  and  medicines  bought  of  mountebanks; 
For  nature  so  preposterously  to  err, 
Being  not  deficient,  blind,  or  lame  of  sense, 
Sans  witchcraft  could  not. 

Duke.  Whoe'er  he  be  that  in  this  foul  proceeding 
Hath  thus  beguiled  your  daughter  of  herself 
And  you  of  her,  the  bloody  book  of  law 
You  shall  yourself  read  in  the  bitter  letter 
After  your  own  sense,  yea,  though  our  proper  son 
Stood  in  your  action. 

Bra.  Humbly  I  thank  your  grace.  70 

Here  is  the  man,  this  Moor;  whom  now,  it  seems, 
Your  special  mandate  for  the  state-affairs 
Hath  hither  brought. 

All.  We  are  very  sorry  for  't. 

Duke.   [To  Othello]  What  in  your  own  part  can  you  say 
to  this? 

38 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  Hi. 

Bra.  Nothing1,  but  this  is  so. 

Oth.  Most  potent,  grave,  and  reverend  signiors, 
My  very  noble  and  approved  good  masters, 
That  I  have  ta'en  away  this  old  man's  daughter, 
It  is  most  true;  true,  I  have  married  her: 
The  very  head  and  front  of  my  offending  80 

Hath  this  extent,  no  more.     Rude  am  I  in  my  speech, 
And  little  blest  with  the  soft  phrase  of  peace; 
For  since  these  arms  of  mine  had  seven  years'  pith, 
Till  now  some  nine  moons  wasted,  they  have  used 
Their  dearest  action  in  the  tented  field; 
And  little  of  this  great  world  can  I  speak> 
More  than  pertains  to  feats  of  broil  and  battle; 
And  therefore  little  shall  I  grace  my  cause 
In  speaking  for  myself.     Yet,  by  your  gracious  pa- 
tience, 

I  will  a  round  unvarnish'd  tale  deliver  90 

Of  my  whole  course  of  love  ;  what  drugs,  what  charms, 
What  conjuration  and  what  mighty  magic — 
For  such  proceeding  I  am  charged  withal — 
I  won  his  daughter. 

Bra.  A  maiden  never  bold; 

Of  spirit  so  still  and  quiet  that  her  motion 
Blush' d  at  herself ;  and  she — in  spite  of  nature, 
Of  years,  of  country,  credit,  every  thing — 
To  fall  in  love  with  what  she  fear'd  to  look  on! 
It  is  a  judgement  maim'd  and  most  imperfect, 
That  will  confess  perfection  so  could  err  100 

Against  all  rules  of  nature;   and  must  be  driven 
To  find  out  practices  of  cunning  hell, 
Why  this  should  be.    I  therefore  vouch  again, 
That  with  some  mixtures  powerful  o'er  the  blood, 
Or  with  some  dram  conjured  to  this  effect, 

39 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

He  wrought  upon  her. 

Duke.  To  vouch  this,  is  no  proof, 

Without  more  certain  and  more  overt  test 
Than  these  thin  habits  and  poor  likelihoods 
Of  modern  seeming  do  prefer  against  him. 

First  Sen.  But,  Othello,  speak:  no 

Did  you  by  indirect  and  forced  courses 
Subdue  and  poison  this  young  maid's  affections? 
Or  came  it  by  request,  and  such  fair  question 
As  soul  to  soul  affordeth? 

Oth.  I  do  beseech  you. 

Send  for  the  lady  to  the  Sagittary, 
And  let  her  speak  of  me  before  her  father: 
If  you  do  find  me  foul  in  her  report, 
The  trust,  the  office  I  do  hold  of  you, 
Not  only  take  away,  but  let  your  sentence 
Even  fall  upon  my  life. 

Duke.  Fetch  Desdemona  hither.  120 

Oth.  Ancient,  conduct  them;   you  best  know  the  place. 

[Exeunt  I  ago  and  Attendants. 
And  till  she  come,  as  truly  as  to  heaven 
I  do  confess  the  vices  of  my  blood, 
So  justly  to  your  grave  ears  I  '11  present 
How  I  did  thrive  in  this  fair  lady's  love 
And  she  in  mine. 

Duke.  Say  it,  Othello. 

Oth.  Her  father  loved  me,  oft  invited  me, 
Still  questioned  me  the  story  of  my  life 
From  year  to  year,  the  battles,  sieges,  fortunes,   130 
That  I  have  pass'd. 

I  ran  it  through,  even  from  my  boyish  days 
To  the  very  moment  that  he  bade  me  tell  it: 
40 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 

Wherein  I  spake  of  most  disastrous  chances, 

Of  moving  accidents  by  flood  and  field, 

Of  hair-breadth  'scapes  i'  the  imminent  deadly  breach, 

Of  being  taken  by  the  insolent  foe, 

And  sold  to  slavery,  of  my  redemption  thence, 

And  portance  in  my  travels'  history: 

Wherein  of  antres  vast  and  deserts  idle,  140 

Rough  quarries,  rocks,  and  hills  whose  heads  touch 

heaven, 

It  was  my  hint  to  speak, — such  was  the  process; 
And  of  the  Cannibals  that  each  other  eat, 
The  Anthropophagi,  and  men  whose  heads 
Do  grow  beneath  their  shoulders.    This  to  hear 
Would  Desdemona  seriously  incline: 
But  still  the  house-affairs  would  draw  her  thence; 
Which  ever  as  she  could  with  haste  dispatch, 
She  'Id  come  again,  and  with  a  greedy  ear 
Devour  up  my  discourse:   which  I  observing,       150 
Took  once  a  pliant  hour,  and  found  good  means 
To  draw  from  her  a  prayer  of  earnest  heart 
That  I  would  all  my  pilgrimage  dilate, 
Whereof  by  parcels  she  had  something  heard, 
But  not  intentively:    I  did  consent, 
And  often  did  beguile  her  of  her  tears 
When  I  did  speak  of  some  distressful  stroke 
That  my  youth  suffer'd.     My  story  being  done, 
She  gave  me  for  my  pains  a  world  of  sighs: 
She  swore,  in  faith,    'twas  strange,    'twas  passing 

strange;  160 

'Twns  pitiful,  'twas  wondrous  pitiful: 
She  wish'd  she  had  not  heard  it,  yet  she  wish'd 
That  heaven  had  made  her  such  a  man :  she  thank'd 

me, 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

And  bade  me,  if  I  had  a  friend  that  loved  her, 

I  should  but  teach  him  how  to  tell  my  story, 

And  that  would  woo  her.    Upon  this  hint  I  spake: 

She  loved  me  for  the  dangers  I  had  pass'd, 

And  I  loved  her  that  she  did  pity  them. 

This  only  is  the  witchcraft  I  have  used. 

Here  comes  the  lady;  let  her  witness  it.  170 

Enter  Desdemona,  I  ago,  and  Attendants. 

Duke.  I  think  this  tale  would  win  my  daughter  too. 
Good  Brabantio, 

Take  up  this  mangled  matter  at  the  best: 
Men  do  their  broken  weapons  rather  use 
Than  their  bare  hands. 

Bra.  I  pray  you,  hear  her  speak: 

If  she  confess  that  she  was  half  the  wooer, 
Destruction  on  my  head,  if  my  bad  blame 
Light  on  the  man!    Come  hither,  gentle  mistress: 
Do  you  perceive  in  all  this  noble  company 
Where  most  you  owe  obedience? 

Des.  My  noble  father,     180 

I  do  perceive  here  a  divided  duty: 
To  you  I  am  bound  for  life  and  education; 
My  life  and  education  both  do  learn  me 
How  to  respect  you;  you  are  the  lord  of  duty, 
I  am  hitherto  your  daughter :  but  here  's  my  husband, 
And  so  much  duty  as  my  mother  show'd 
To  you,  preferring  you  before  her  father, 
So  much  I  challenge  that  I  may  profess 
Due  to  the  Moor  my  lord. 

Bra.  God  be  with  you!    I  have  done. 

Please  it  your  grace,  on  to  the  state-affairs:          190 

42 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  iiL 

I  had  rather  to  adopt  a  child  than  get  it. 

Come  hither,  Moor: 

I  here  do  give  thee  that  with  all  my  heart, 

Which,  but  thou  hast  already,  with  all  my  heart 

I  would  keep  from  thee.     For  your  sake,  jewel, 

I  am  glad  at  soul  I  have  no  other  child; 

For  thy  escape  would  teach  me  tyranny, 

To  hang  clogs  on  them.    I  have  done,  my  lord. 

Duke.  Let  me  speak  like  yourself,  and  lay  a  sentence 
Which,  as  a  grise  or  step,  may  help  these  lovers  200 
Into  your  favour. 

When  remedies  are  past,  the  griefs  are  ended 
By  seeing  the  worst,  which  late  on  hopes  depended. 
To  mourn  a  mischief  that  is  past  and  gone 
Is  the  next  way  to  draw  new  mischief  on. 
What  cannot  be  preserved  when  fortune  takes, 
Patience  her  injury  a  mockery  makes. 
The  robb'd  that  smiles  steals  something  from  the  thief, 
He  robs  himself  that  spends  a  bootless  grief. 

Bra.  So  let  the  Turk  of  Cyprus  us  beguile;  210 

We  lose  it  not  so  long  as  we  can  smile. 
He  bears  the  sentence  well,  that  nothing  bears 
But  the  free  comfort  which  from  thence  he  hears; 
But  he  bears  both  the  sentence  and  the  sorrow, 
That,  to  pay  grief,  must  of  poor  patience  borrow. 
These  sentences,  to  sugar  or  to  gall, 
Being  strong  on  both  sides,  are  equivocal: 
But  words  are  words;  I  never  yet  did  hear 
That  the  bruised  heart  was  pierced  through  the  ear. 
1  humbly  beseech  you,  proceed  to  the  affairs  of  state. 

Duke.  The  Turk  with  a  most  mighty  preparation        221 
makes  for  Cyprus.    Othello,  the  fortitude  of  the 

43 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

place  is  best  known  to  you;  and  though  we  have 
there  a  substitute  of  most  allowed  sufficiency, 
yet  opinion,  a  sovereign  mistress  of  effects, 
throws  a  more  safer  voice  on  you:  you  must 
therefore  be  content  to  slubber  the  gloss  of  your 
new  fortunes  with  this  more  stubborn  and  bois- 
terous expedition. 

Oth.  The  tyrant  custom,  most  grave  senators,  230 

Hath  made  the  flinty  and  steel  couch  of  war 
My  thrice-driven  bed  of  down:   I  do  agnize 
A  natural  and  prompt  alacrity 
I  find  in  hardness ;  and  do  undertake 
These  present  wars  against  the  Ottomites. 
Most  humbly  therefore  bending  to  your  state, 
I  crave  fit  disposition  for  my  wife, 
Due  reference  of  place  and  exhibition, 
With  such  accommodation  and  besort 
As  levels  with  her  breeding. 

Duke.  If  you  please,  240 

Be  't  at  her  father's. 

Bra.  I  '11  not  have  it  so. 

Oth.  Nor  I. 

Des.  Nor  I,  I  would  not  there  reside, 

To  put  my  father  in  impatient  thoughts 
By  being  in  his  eye.    Most  gracious  duke, 
To  my  unfolding  lend  your  prosperous  ear, 
And  let  me  find  a  charter  in  your  voice 
To  assist  my  simpleness. 

Duke.  What  would  you,  Desdemona? 

Des.  That  I  did  love  the  Moor  to  live  with  him, 

My  downright  violence  and  storm  of  fortunes     250 
May  trumpet  to  the  world :  my  heart 's  subdued 

44 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 

Even  to  the  very  quality  of  my  lord: 

I  saw  Othello's  visage  in  his  mind, 

And  to  his  honours  and  his  valiant  parts 

Did  I  my  soul  and  fortunes  consecrate. 

So  that,  dear  lords,  if  I  be  left  behind, 

A  moth  of  peace,  and  he  go  to  the  war, 

The  rites  for  which  I  love  him  are  bereft  me, 

And  I  a  heavy  interim  shall  support 

By  his  dear  absence.    Let  me  go  with  him.  260 

Oth.  Let  her  have  your  voices. 

Vouch  with  me,  heaven,  I  therefore  beg  it  not, 

To  please  the  palate  of  my  appetite; 

Nor  to  comply  with  heat — the  young  affects 

In  me  defunct — and  proper  satisfaction; 

But  to  be  free  and  bounteous  to  her  mind: 

And  heaven  defend  your  good  souls,  that  you  think 

I  will  your  serious  and  great  business  scant 

For  she  is  with  me.     No,  when  light-wing'd  toys 

Of  feather'd  Cupid  seel  with  wanton  dullness       270 

My  speculative  and  officed  instruments, 

That  my  disports  corrupt  and  taint  my  business, 

Let  housewives  make  a  skillet  of  my  helm, 

And  all  indign  and  base  adversities 

Make  head  against  my  estimation! 

Duke.  Be  it  as  you  shall  privately  determine, 

Either  for  her  stay  or  going:   the  affair  cries  haste, 
And  speed  must  answer  't;  you  must  hence  to-night. 

DCS.  To-night,  my  lord? 

Duke.  This  night. 

Oth.  With  all  my  heart. 

Duke.  At  nine  i'  the  morning  here  we  '11  meet  again.  280 
Othello,  leave  some  officer  behind, 

45 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO. 

And  he  shall  our  commission  bring  to  you; 

With  such  things  else  of  quality  and  respect 

As  doth  import  you. 
Oth.  So  please  your  grace,  my  ancient; 

A  man  he  is  of  honesty  and  trust: 

To  his  conveyance  I  assign  my  wife, 

With  what  else  needful  your  good  grace  shall  think 

To  be  sent  after  me. 
Duke.  Let  it  be  so. 

Good  night  to  every  one.     [To  Brab.]   And,  noble 
signior, 

If  virtue  no  delighted  beauty  lack,  290 

Your  son-in-law  is  far  more  fair  than  black. 
First  Sen.  Adieu,  brave  Moor;  use  Desdemona  well. 
Bra.  Look  to  her,  Moor,  if  thou  hast  eyes  to  see 

She  has  deceived  her  father,  and  may  thee. 

[Exeunt  Duke,  Senators,  Officers,  &-c. 
Oth.  My  life  upon  her  faith!   Honest  lago, 

My  Desdemona  must  I  leave  to  thee: 

I  prithee,  let  thy  wife  attend  on  her; 

And  bring  them  after  in  the  best  advantage. 

Come,  Desdemona;  I  have  but  an  hour 

Of  love,  of  worldly  matters  and  direction,  300 

To  spend  with  thee:  we  must  obey  the  time. 

[Exeunt  Othello  and  Desdemona. 
Rod.  lago! 

lago.  What  say'st  thou,  noble  heart? 
Rod.  What  will  I  do,  thinkest  thou? 
lago.  Why,  go  to  bed  and  sleep. 
Rod.  I  will  incontinently  drown  myself. 
lago.  If  thou  dost,  I  shall  never  love  thee  after. 

Why,  thou  silly  gentleman ! 
46 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 

Rod.  It  is  silliness  to  live  when  to  live  is  torment; 

and  then  have  we  a  prescription  to  die  when  310 
death  is  our  physician. 

I  ago.  O  villanous!  I  have  looked  upon  the  world 
for  four  times  seven  years;  and  since  I  could 
distinguish  betwixt  a  benefit  and  an  injury,  I 
never  found  man  that  knew  how  to  love  himself. 
Ere  I  would  say  I  would  drown  myself  for 
the  love  of  a  guinea-hen,  I  would  change  my 
humanity  with  a  baboon. 

Rod.  What  should  I  do?    I  confess  it  is  my  shame 

to  be  so  fond;    but  it  is  not  in  my  virtue  to  320 
amend  it. 

I  ago.  Virtue!  a  fig!  'tis  in  ourselves  that  we  are 
thus  or  thus.  Our  bodies  are  gardens:  to  the 
which  our  wills  are  gardeners :  so  that  if  we  will 
plant  nettles  or  sow  lettuce,  set  hyssop  and  weed 
up  thyme,  supply  it  with  one  gender  of  herbs  or 
distract  it  with  many,  either  to  have  it  sterile 
with  idleness  or  manured  with  industry,  why, 
the  power  and  corrigible  authority  of  this  lies 
in  our  wills.  If  the  balance  of  our  lives  had  not  330 
one  scale  of  reason  to  poise  another  of  sensual- 
ity, the  blood  and  baseness  of  our  natures  would 
conduct  us  to  most  preposterous  conclusions: 
but  we  have  reason  to  cool  our  raging  motions, 
our  carnal  stings,  our  unbitted  lusts;  whereof 
I  take  this,  that  you  call  love,  to  be  a  sect  or 
scion. 

Rod.  It  cannot  be. 

lago.  It  is  merely  a  lust  of  the  blood  and  a  permission 

of  the  will.     Come,  be  a  man:   drown  thyself!  340 

47 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

drown  cats  and  blind  puppies.  I  have  professed 
me  thy  friend,  and  I  confess  me  knit  to  thy 
deserving  with  cables  of  perdurable  toughness : 
I  could  never  better  stead  thee  than  now.  Put 
money  in  thy  purse;  follow  thou  the  wars; 
defeat  thy  favour  with  an  usurped  beard ;  I  say, 
put  money  in  thy  purse.  It  cannot  be  that 
Desdemona  should  long  continue  her  love  to 
the  Moor — put  money  in  thy  purse — nor  he  his 
to  her:  it  was  a  violent  commencement,  and  350 
thou  shalt  see  an  answerable  sequestration;  put 
but  money  in  thy  purse.  These  Moors  are 
changeable  in  their  wills: — fill  thy  purse  with 
money.  The  food  that  to  him  now  is  as  luscious 
as  locusts,  shall  be  to  him  shortly  as  bitter  as 
coloquintida.  She  must  change  for  youth: 
when  she  is  sated  with  his  body,  she  will  find  the 
error  of  her  choice:  she  must  have  change,  she 
must:  therefore  put  money  in  thy  purse.  If 
thou  wilt  needs  damn  thyself,  do  it  a  more  deli-  360 
cate  way  than  drowning.  Make  all  the  money 
thou  canst:  if  sanctimony  and  a  frail  vow  be- 
twixt an  erring  barbarian  and  a  supersubtle 
Venetian  be  not  too  hard  for  my  wits  and  all  the 
tribe  of  hell,  thou  shalt  enjoy  her;  therefore 
make  money.  A  pox  of  drowning  thyself !  it  is 
clean  out  of  the  way:  seek  thou  rather  to  be 
hanged  in  compassing  thy  joy  than  to  be 
drowned  and  go  without  her. 

Rod.  Wilt  thou  be  fast  to  my  hopes,  if  I  depend  on  370 
the  issue? 

logo.  Thou  art  sure  of  me:  go,  make  money:  I  have 

48 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 

told  thee  often,  and  I  re-tell  thee  again  and 
again,  I  hate  the  Moor:  my  cause  is  hearted; 
thine  hath  no  less  reason.  Let  us  be  conjunctive 
in  our  revenge  against  him  :  if  thou  canst  cuckold 
him,  thou  dost  thyself  a  pleasure,  me  a  sport. 
There  are  many  events  in  the  womb  of  time, 
which  will  be  delivered.  Traverse ;  go ;  pro- 
vide thy  money.  We  will  have  more  of  this  380 
to-morrow.  Adieu. 

Rod.  Where  shall  we  meet  i'  the  morning? 

logo.  At  my  lodging. 

Rod.  I  '11  be  with  thee  betimes. 

lago.  Go  to :  farewell.    Do  you  hear,  Roderigo  ? 

Rod.  What  say  you  ? 

lago.  Xo  more  of  drowning,  do  you  hear? 

Rod.  I  am  changed :   I  '11  go  sell  all  my  land.  [Exit. 

lago.  Thus  do  I  ever  make  my  fool  my  purse ; 

For  I  mine  own  gain'd  knowledge  should  profane, 

If  I  would  time  expend  with  such  a  snipe  391 

But  for  my  sport  and  profit.    I  hate  the  Moor ; 

And  it  is  thought  abroad  that  'twixt  my  sheets 

He  has  done  my  office :   I  know  not  if  't  be  true ; 

But  I  for  mere  suspicion  in  that  kind 

Will  do  as  if  for  surety.    He  holds  me  well ; 

The  better  shall  my  purpose  work  on  him. 

Cassio  's  a  proper  man  :  let  me  see  now : 

To  get  his  place,  and  to  plume  up  my  will 

In  double  knavery — How,  how  ? — Let 's  see : —     400 

After  some  time,  to  abuse  Othello's  ear 

That  he  is  too  familiar  with  his  wife. 

He  hath  a  person  and  a  smooth  dispose 

To  be  suspected ;   framed  to  make  women  false. 

49 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

The  Moor  is  of  a  free  and  open  nature, 
That  thinks  men  honest  that  but  seem  to  be  so ; 
And  will  as  tenderly  be  led  by  the  nose 
As  asses  are. 

I  have  't.    It  is  engender'd.    Hell  and  night 
Must  bring  this  monstrous  birth  to  the  world's  light. 

[Exit. 

ACT  SECOND. 
Scene  I. 

A  sea-port  in  Cyprus.    An  open  place  near  the  quay. 
Enter  Montana  and  two  Gentlemen. 

Man.  What  from  the  cape  can  you  discern  at  sea  ? 

First  Gent.  Nothing  at  all :   it  is  a  high-wrought  flood ; 
I  cannot,  'twixt  the  heaven  and  the  main, 
Descry  a  sail. 

Mon.  Methinks  the  wind  hath  spoke  aloud  at  land ; 
A  fuller  blast  ne'er  shook  our  battlements : 
If  it  hath  ruffian 'd  so  upon  the  sea, 
What  ribs  of  oak,  when  mountains  melt  on  them. 
Can  hold  the  mortise?    What  shall  we  hear  of  this? 

Sec.  Gent.  A  segregation  of  the  Turkish  fleet :  10 

For  do  but  stand  upon  the  foaming  shore, 
The  chidden  billow  seems  to  pelt  the  clouds 
The  wind-shaked  surge,   with  high  and  monstrous 

mane, 

Seems  to  cast  water  on  the  burning  bear, 
And  quench  the  guards  of  the  ever-fixed  pole : 
I  never  did  like  molestation  view 
On  the  enchafed  flood. 

50 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

Mon.  If  that  the  Turkish  fleet 

Be  not  enshelter'd  and  embay'd,  they  are  drown'd ; 
It  is  impossible  to  bear  it  out. 

Enter  a  third  Gentleman. 

Third  Gent.  News,  lads!   our  wars  are  done.  20 

The  desperate  tempest  hath  so  bang'd  the  Turks, 
That  their  designment  halts :  a  noble  ship  of  Venice 
Hath  seen  a  grievous  wreck  and  sufferance 
On  most  part  of  their  fleet. 

Mon.  How!   is  this  true? 

Third  Gent.  The  ship  is  here  put  in, 

A  Veronesa ;  Michael  Cassio, 
Lieutenant  to  the  warlike  Moor  Othello, 
Is  come  on  shore :   the  Moor  himself  at  sea, 
And  is  in  full  commission  here  for  Cyprus. 

Mon.  I  am  glad  on  't ;   'tis  a  worthy  governor.  30 

Third  Gent.  But  this  same  Cassio,  though  he  speak  of 

comfort 

Touching  the  Turkish  loss,  yet  he  looks  sadly 
And  prays  the  Moor  be  safe ;   for  they  were  parted 
With  foul  and  violent  tempest. 

Mon.  Pray  heavens  he  be ; 

For  I  have  served  him,  and  the  man  commands 
Like  a  full  soldier.     Let 's  to  the  seaside,  ho ! 
As  well  to  see  the  vessel  that 's  come  in 
As  to  throw  out  our  eyes  for  brave  Othello, 
Even  till  we  make  the  main  and  the  aerial  blue 
An  indistinct  regard. 

Third  Gent.  Come,  let 's  do  so;  40 

For  every  minute  is  expectancy 
Of  more  arrivance. 

Si 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Enter  Cassio. 

Cos.  Thanks,  you  the  valiant  of  this  warlike  isle, 
That  so  approve  the  Moor !   O,  let  the  heavens 
Give  him  defence  against  the  elements, 
For  I  have  lost  him  on  a  dangerous  sea. 

Mon.  Is  he  well  shipp'd? 

Cas.  His  bark  is  stoutly  timber'd,  and  his  pilot 
Of  very  expert  and  approved  allowance ; 
Therefore  my  hopes,  not  surfeited  to  death,  50 

Stand  in  bold  cure. 

[A  cry  within :     '  A  sail,  a  sail,  a  sail ! ' 

Enter  a  fourth  Gentleman. 

Cas.  What  noise? 

Fourth  Gent.  The  town  is  empty ;   on  the  brow  o'  the  sea 

Stand  ranks  of  people,  and  they  cry  '  A  sail ! ' 
Cas.  My  hopes  do  shape  him  for  the  governor. 

[  Gun s  heard. 
Sec.  Gent.  They  do  discharge  their  shot  of  courtesy : 

Our  friends  at  least. 
Cas.  I  pray  you,  sir,  go  forth, 

And  give  us  truth  who  'tis  that  is  arrived. 
Sec.  Gent.  I  shall.  [Exit. 

Mon.  But,  good  lieutenant,  is  your  general  wived  ?         60 
Cas.  Most  fortunately :  he  hath  achieved  a  maid 

That  paragons  description  and  wild  fame ; 

One  that  excels  the  quirks  of  blazoning  pens, 

And  in  the  essential  vesture  of  creation 

Does  tire  the  ingener. 

Re-enter  second  Gentleman. 

How  now !  who  has  put  in  ? 

52 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

Sec.  Gent.  Tis  one  lago,  ancient  to  the  general. 

Cas.  He  has  had  most  favourable  and  happy  speed  : 

Tempests  themselves,  high  seas,  and  howling  winds, 
The  gutter'd  rocks,  and  congregated  sands, 
Traitors  ensteep'd  to  clog  the  guiltless  keel,  70 

As  having  sense  of  beauty,  do  omit 
Their  mortal  natures,  letting  go  safely  by 
The  divine  Desdemona. 

Man.  What  is  she? 

Cas.  She  that  I  spake  of,  our  great  captain's  captain, 
Left  in  the  conduct  of  the  bold  lago ; 
Whose  footing  here  anticipates  our  thoughts 
A  se'nnight's  speed.    Great  Jove,  Othello  guard, 
And  swell  his  sail  with  thine  own  powerful  breath, 
That  he  may  bless  this  bay  with  his  tall  ship, 
Make  love's  quick  pants  in  Desdemona's  arms,         80 
Give  renew'd  fire  to  our  extincted  spirits, 
And  bring  all  Cyprus  comfort. 

Enter  Desdemona,  Emilia,  lago,  Roderigo,  and 
Attendants. 

O,  behold. 

The  riches  of  the  ship  is  come  on  shore ! 

Ye  men  of  Cyprus,  let  her  have  your  knees. 

Hail  to  thee.  lady !  and  the  grace  of  heaven, 

Before,  behind  thee,  and  on  every  hand, 

Enwheel  thee  round ! 
Des.  I  thank  you,  valiant  Cassio. 

What  tidings  can  you  tell  me  of  my  lord  ? 
Cas.  He  is  not  yet  arrived :  nor  know  I  aught 

But  that  he  's  well  and  will  be  shortly  here.  90 

Des.  O,  but  I  fear — How  lost  you  company  ? 
Cas.  The  great  contention  of  the  sea  and  skies 

53 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Parted  our  fellowship — But,  hark  !  a  sail. 

[A  cry  within  :   '  A  sail,  a  sail!  '     Guns  heard. 
Sec.  Gent.  They  give  their  greeting  to  the  citadel : 

This  likewise  is  a  friend. 
Cos.  See  for  the  news.     [E.rit  Gentleman. 

Good  ancient,  you  are  welcome.   [To  Emilia]   Wel- 
come, mistress : 

Let  it  not  gall  your  patience,  good  lago, 

That  I  extend  my  manners  ;  'tis  my  breeding 

That  gives  me  this  bold  show  of  courtesy.  100 

[Kissing  her. 
logo.  Sir,  would  she  give  you  so  much  of  her  lips 

As  of  her  tongue  she  oft  bestows  on  me, 

You  'Id  have  enough. 

Des.  Alas,  she  has  no  speech. 

logo.  In  faith,  too  much ; 

I  find  it  still  when  I  have  list  to  sleep : 

Marry,  before  your  ladyship,  I  grant, 

She  puts  her  tongue  a  little  in  her  heart 

And  chides  with  thinking. 
Emil.  You  have  little  cause  to  say  so. 

lago.  Come    on,    come    on ;     you    are    pictures    out    of 
doors,  1 1  o 

Bells  in  your  parlours,  wild-cats  in  your  kitchens, 

Saints  in  your  injuries,  devils  being  offended, 

Players  in  your  housewifery,  and  housewives  in  your 

beds. 

Des.  O,  fie  upon  thee,  slanderer! 
lago.  Nay,  it  is  true,  or  else  I  am  a  Turk : 

You  rise  to  play,  and  go  to  bed  to  work. 
Emil.  You  shall  not  write  my  praise. 
lago.  No,  let  me  not. 

54 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

DCS.  What  wouldst  thou  write  of  me,  if  them  shouldst 
praise  me? 

logo.  O  gentle  lady,  do  not  put  me  to  't ; 

For  I  am  nothing  if  not  critical.  120 

Des.  Come  on,  assay — There  's  one  gone  to  the  harbour? 

logo.  Ay,  madam. 

DCS.  I  am  not  merry;  but  I  do  beguile 
The  thing  I  am  by  seeming  otherwise. 
Come,  how  wouldst  thou  praise  me? 

logo.  I  am  about  it;  but  indeed  my  invention 

Comes  from  my  pate  as  birdlime  does  from  frize: 
It  plucks  out  brains  and  all:   but  my  Muse  labours, 
And  thus  she  is  deliver'd. 

If  she  be  fair  and  wise,  fairness  and  wit,  130 

The  one's  for  use,  the  other  useth  it. 

DCS.  Well  praised !   How  if  she  be  black  and  witty  ? 

logo.  If  she  be  black,  and  thereto  have  a  wit, 

She  '11  find  a  white  that  shall  her  blackness  fit. 

DCS.  Worse  and  worse. 

Emil.  How  if  fair  and  foolish? 

logo.  She  never  yet  was  foolish  that  was  fair; 
For  even  her  folly  help'd  her  to  an  heir. 

DCS.  These  are  old  fond  paradoxes  to  make  fools 

laugh  i'  the  alehouse.     What  miserable  praise  140 
hast  thou  for  her  that 's  foul  and  foolish? 

lago.  There  's  none  so  foul,  and  foolish  thereunto, 
But  does  foul  pranks  which  fair  and  wise  ones  do. 

Des.  O  heavy  ignorance !  thou  praisest  the  worst  best. 
But  what  praise  couldst  thou  bestow  on  a  de- 
serving woman  indeed,  one  that  in  the  author- 
ity of  her  merit  did  justly  put  on  the  vouch  of 
very  malice  itself? 

55 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

logo.  She  that  was  ever  fair  and  never  proud, 

Had  tongue  at  will  and  yet  was  never  loud,  150 

Never  lack'd  gold  and  yet  went  never  gay, 
Fled  from  her  wish  and  yet  said  '  Now  I  may  ' ; 
She  that,  being  anger  d,  her  revenge  being  nigh, 
Bade  her  wrong  stay  and  her  displeasure  fly; 
She  that  in  wisdom  never  was  so  frail 
To  change  the  cod's  head  for  the  salmon's  tail; 
She  that  could  think  and  ne'er  disclose  her  mind, 
See  suitors  following  and  not  look  behind; 
She  was  a  wight,  if  ever  such  wight  were, — 

DCS.  To  do  what?  160 

logo.  To  suckle  fools  and  chronicle  small  beer. 

DCS.  O  most  lame  and  impotent  conclusion!  Do  not 
learn  of  him,  Emilia,  though  he  be  thy  husband. 
How  say  you,  Cassio?  is  he  not  a  most  profane 
and  liberal  counsellor? 

Cas.  He  speaks  home,  madam:  you  may  relish  him 
more  in  the  soldier  than  in  the  scholar. 

lago.  [Aside]  He  takes  her  by  the  palm:  ay,  well 
said,  whisper:  with  as  little  a  web  as  this  will  I 
ensnare  as  great  a  fly  as  Cassio.  Ay,  smile  upon  170 
her,  do ;  I  will  gyve  thee  in  thine  own  courtship. 
You  say  true;  'tis  so,  indeed:  if  such  tricks  as 
these  strip  you  out  of  your  lieutenantry,  it  had 
been  better  you  had  not  kissed  your  three  fin- 
gers so  oft,  which  now  again  you  are  most  apt 
to  play  the  sir  in.  Very  good;  well  kissed!  an 
excellent  courtesy!  'tis  so;  indeed.  Yet  again 
your  fingers  to  your  lips?  would  they  were  clys- 
ter-pipes for  your  sake! — [Trumpet  within.] 
The  Moor!  I  know  his  trumpet.  180 

56 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

Cas.  'Tis  truly  so. 

Des.  Let 's  meet  him  and  receive  him. 

Cas.  Lo,  where  he  comes ! 

Enter  Othello  and  Attendants. 

Oth.  O  my  fair  warrior! 

Des.  My  dear  Othello ! 

Oth.  It  gives  me  wonder  great  as  my  content 

To  see  you  here  before  me.    O  my  soul's  joy ! 

If  after  every  tempest  come  such  calms, 

May  the  winds  blow  till  they  have  waken'd  death ! 

And  let  the  labouring  bark  climb  hills  of  seas 

Olympus-high,  and  duck  again  as  low  190 

As  hell 's  from  heaven !    If  it  were  now  to  die, 

'Twere  now  to  be  most  happy ;  for  I  fear, 

My  soul  hath  her  content  so  absolute 

That  not  another  comfort  like  to  this 

Succeeds  in  unknown  fate. 
Des.  The  heavens  forbid 

But  that  our  loves  and  comforts  should  increase, 

Even  as  our  days  do  grow ! 
Oth.  Amen  to  that,  sweet  powers ! 

I  cannot  speak  enough  of  this  content ; 

It  stops  me  here ;   it  is  too  much  of  joy :  199 

And  this,  and  this,  the  greatest  discords  be 

[Kissing  her. 

That  e'er  our  hearts  shall  make! 
lago.  [Aside]  O,  you  are  well  tuned  now  ! 

But  I  '11  set  down  the  pegs  that  make  this  music, 

As  honest  as  I  am. 
Oth.  Come,  let  us  to  the  castle. 

News,  friends ;    our  wars  are  done,  the  Turks  are 
drown'd. 

57 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

How  does  my  old  acquaintance  of  this  isle? 

Honey,  you  shall  be  well  desired  in  Cyprus ; 

I  have  found  great  love  amongst  them.    O  my  sweet, 

I  prattle  out  of  fashion,  and  I  dote 

In  mine  own  comforts.    I  prithee,  good  lago, 

Go  to  the  bay,  and  disembark  my  coffers  :  210 

Bring  thou  the  master  to  the  citadel ; 

He  is  a  good  one,  and  his  worthiness 

Does  challenge  much  respect.    Come,  Desdemona, 

Once  more  well  met  at  Cyprus. 

[Exeunt  all  but  logo  and  Roderigo. 

lago.  Do  thou  meet  me  presently  at  the  harbour. 
Come  hither.  If  thou  be'st  valiant — as,  thev 
say,  base  men  being  in  love  have  then  a  nobility 
in  their  natures  more  than  is  native  to  them — 
list  me.  The  lieutenant  to-night  watches  on 
the  court  of  guard.  First,  I  must  tell  thee  this :  220 
Desdemona  is  directly  in  love  with  him. 

Rod.  With  him  ?  why,  'tis  not  possible. 

lago.  Lay  thy  finger  thus,  and  let  thy  soul  be  in- 
structed. Mark  me  with  what  violence  she  first 
loved  the  Moor,  but  for  bragging,  and  telling  her 
fantastical  lies :  and  will  she  love  him  still  for 
prating  ?  let  not  thy  discreet  heart  think  it.  Her 
eye  must  be  fed  ;  and  what  delight  shall  she  have 
to  look  on  the  devil?  When  the  blood  is  made 
dull  with  the  act  of  sport,  there  should  be,  again  230 
to  inflame  it  and  to  give  satiety  a  fresh  appetite, 
loveliness  in  favour,  sympathy  in  years,  manners 
and  beauties ;  all  which  the  Moor  is  defective 
in  :  now,  for  want  of  these  required  conveniences, 
her  delicate  tenderness  will  find  itself  abused, 

58 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

begin  to  heave  the  gorge,  disrelish  and  abhor 
the  Moor;  very  nature  will  instruct  her  in  it  and 
compel  her  to  some  second  choice.  Now,  sir, 
this  granted — as  it  is  a  most  pregnant  and  un- 
forced position — who  stands  so  eminently  in  240 
the  degree  of  this  fortune  as  Cassio  does?  a 
knave  very  voluble;  no  further  conscionable 
than  in  putting  on  the  mere  form  of  civil  and 
humane  seeming,  for  the  better  compassing 
of  his  salt  and  most  hidden  loose  affection?  why, 
none;  why,  none:  a  slipper  and  subtle  knave; 
a  finder  out  of  occasions;  that  has  an  eye  can 
stamp  and  counterfeit  advantages,  though  true 
advantage  never  present  itself:  a  devilish  knave! 
Besides,  the  knave  is  handsome,  young,  and  hath  250 
all  those  requisites  in  him  that  folly  and  green 
minds  look  after:  a  pestilent  complete  knave; 
and  the  woman  hath  found  him  already. 

Rod.  I  cannot  believe  that  in  her;  she  's  full  of  most 
blest  condition. 

logo.  Blest  fig's-end!  the  wine  she  drinks  is  made 
of  grapes;  if  she  had  been  blest,  she  would 
never  have  loved  the  Moor:  blest  pudding! 
Didst  thcu  not  see  her  paddle  with  the  palm  of 
his  hand?  didst  not  mark  that?  260 

Rod.  Yes,  that  I  did;  but  that  was  but  courtesy. 

lago.  Lechery,  by  this  hand;  an  index  and  obscure 
prologue  to  the  history  of  lust  and  foul  thoughts. 
They  met  so  near  with  their  lips  that  their 
breaths  embraced  together.  Villanous  thoughts. 
Roderigo!  when  these  mutualities  so  marshal 
the  way,  hard  at  hand  comes  the  master  and 

59 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

main  exercise,  the  incorporate  conclusion :  pish ! 
But,  sir,  be  you  ruled  by  me:  I  have  brought 
you  from  Venice.  Watch  you  to-night;  for  270 
the  command,  I'll  lay 't  upon  you:  Cassio 
knows  you  not :  I  '11  not  be  far  from  you :  do 
you  find  some  occasion  to  anger  Cassio,  either 
by  speaking  too  loud,  or  tainting  his  discipline, 
or  from  what  other  course  you  please,  which  the 
time  shall  more  favourably  minister. 

Rod.  Well. 

lago.  Sir,  he  is  rash  and  very  sudden  in  choler,  and 
haply  may  strike  at  you:  provoke  him,  that  he 
may;  for  even  out  of  that  will  I  cause  these  of  280 
Cyprus  to  mutiny;  whose  qualification  shall 
come  into  no  true  taste  again  but  by  the  dis- 
planting  of  Cassio.  So  shall  you  have  a  shorter 
journey  to  your  desires  by  the  means  I  shall 
then  have  to  prefer  them,  and  the  impediment 
most  profitably  removed,  without  the  which 
there  were  no  expectation  of  our  prosperity. 

Rod.  I  will  do  this,  if  I  can  bring  it  to  any  oppor- 
tunity. 

lago.  I  warrant  thee.     Meet  me  by  and  by  at  the  290 
citadel:    I   must  fetch  his  necessaries   ashore. 
Farewell. 

Rod.  Adieu.  [Exit. 

I  ago.  That  Cassio  loves  her,  I  do  well  believe  it; 
That  she  loves  him,  'tis  apt  and  of  great  credit: 
The  Moor,  howbeit  that  I  endure  him  not, 
Is  of  a  constant,  loving,  noble  nature; 
And  I  dare  think  he  '11  prove  to  Desdemona 
A  most  dear  husband.    Now,  I  do  love  her  too, 
60 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  ii. 

Not  out  of  absolute  lust,  though  peradventure  300 

I  stand  accountant  for  as  great  a  sin, 

But  partly  led  to  diet  my  revenge, 

For  that  I  do  suspect  the  lusty  Moor 

Hath  leap'd  into  my  seat:   the  thought  whereof 

Doth  like  a  poisonous  mineral  gnaw  my  inwards ; 

And  nothing  can  or  shall  content  my  soul 

Till  I  am  even'd  with  him,  wife  for  wife; 

Or  failing  so,  yet  that  I  put  the  Moor 

At  least  into  a  jealousy  so  strong 

That  judgement  cannot  cure.     Which  thing  to  do, 

If  this  poor  trash  of  Venice,  whom  I  trash  311 

For  his  quick  hunting,  stand  the  putting  on, 

I  '11  have  our  Michael  Cassio  on  the  hip, 

Abuse  him  to  the  Moor  in  the  rank  garb; 

For  I  fear  Cassio  with  my  night-cap  too; 

Make  the  Moor  thank  me,  love  me  and  reward  me, 

For  making  him  egregiously  an  ass 

And  practising  upon  his  peace  and  quiet 

Even  to  madness.    'Tis  here,  but  yet  confused:  319 

Knavery's  plain  face  is  never  seen  till  used.     [Exit, 

Scene  II. 

A  street. 

Enter  a  Herald  zvith  a  proclamation;  people 
following. 

Her.  It  is  Othello's  pleasure,  our  noble  and  valiant 
general,  that  upon  certain  tidings  now  arrived, 
importing  the  mere  perdition  of  the  Turkish 
fleet,  every  man  put  himself  into  triumph;  some 
to  dance,  some  to  make  bonfires,  each  man  to 
what  sport  and  revels  his  addiction  leads  him  :  for, 

61 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

besides  these  beneficial  news,  it  is  the  celebration 
of  his  nuptial.  So  much  was  his  pleasure  should 
be  proclaimed.  All  offices  are  open,  and  there 
is  full  liberty  of  feasting  from  this  present  hour  10 
of  five  till  the  bell  have  told  eleven.  Heaven 
bless  the  isle  of  Cyprus  and  our  noble  general 
Othello!  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

A  hall  in  the  castle. 
Enter  Othello,  Desdemona,  Cassio,  and  Attendants. 

Oth.  Good  Michael,  look  you  to  the  guard  to-night: 
Let  's  teach  ourselves  that  honourable  stop, 
Xot  to  outsport  discretion. 

Cos.  lago  hath  direction  what  to  do; 

But  notwithstanding  with  my  personal  eye 
Will  I  look  to  't. 

Oth.  lago  is  most  honest. 

Michael,  good  night:   to-morrow  with  your  earliest 
Let  me  have  speech  with  you.    Come,  my  dear  love, 
The  purchase  made,  the  fruits  are  to  ensue; 
That  profit 's  yet  to  come  'tween  me  and  you.          10 
Good  night. 

[Exeunt  Othello,  Desdemona,  and  Attendants- 
Enter  lago. 

Cos.  Welcome,  lago;   we  must  to  the  watch. 

lago.  Not  this  hour,  lieutenant ;  'tis  not  yet  ten  o'  the 
clock.  Our  general  cast  us  thus  early  for  the 
love  of  his  Desdemona ;  who  let  us  not  therefore 
62 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

blame:   he  hath  not  yet  made  wanton  the  night 
with  her,  and  she  is  sport  for  Jove. 

Cas.  She  's  a  most  exquisite  lady. 

logo.  And,  I  '11  warrant  her,  full  of  game. 

Cas.  Indeed  she  's  a  most  fresh  and  delicate  creature.     20 

logo.  What  an  eye  she  has!  methinks  it  sounds  a 
parley  to  provocation. 

Cas.  An  inviting  eye;  and  yet  methinks  right  modest. 

logo.  And  when  she  speaks,  is  it  not  an  alarum  to 
love? 

Cas.  She  is  indeed  perfection. 

logo.  Well,  happiness  to  their  sheets!     Come,  lieu- 
tenant, I  have  a  stoup  of  wine;   and  here  with- 
out are  a  brace  of  Cyprus  gallants  that  would 
fain   have   a   measure   to   the   health   of   black     30 
Othello. 

Cas.  Not  to-night,  good  lago:  I  have  very  poor  and 
unhappy  brains  for  drinking:  I  could  well  wish 
courtesy  would  invent  some  other  custom  of 
entertainment. 

lago.  O,  they  are  our  friends;  but  one  cup:  I'll 
drink  for  you. 

Cas.  I  have  drunk  but  one  cup  to-night,  and  that 
was  craftily  qualified  too,  and  behold  what  in- 
novation it  makes  here:  I  am  unfortunate  in  the     40 
infirmity,  and  dare  not  task  my  weakness  with 
any  more. 

lago.  What,  man !  'tis  a  night  of  revels :  the  gallants 
desire  it. 

Cas.  Where  are  they? 

lago.  Here  at  the  door;   I  pray  you,  call  them  in. 

Cas.  I  '11  do  't;   but  it  dislikes  me.  [Exit. 

63 


Act  II.  Sc.  Hi.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

logo.  If  I  can  fasten  but  one  cup  upon  him, 

With  that  which  he  hath  drunk  to-night  already, 
He  '11  be  as  full  of  quarrel  and  offence  50 

As  my  young  mistress'  dog.     Now  my  sick  fool 

Roderigo, 

Whom  love  hath  turn'd  almost  the  wrong  side  out, 
To  Desdemona  hath  to-night  caroused 
Potations  pottle-deep ;   and  he  's  to  watch : 
Three  lads  of  Cyprus,  noble  swelling  spirits, 
That  hold  their  honours  in  a  wary  distance, 
The  very  elements  of  this  warlike  isle, 
Have  I  to-night  fluster'd  with  flowing  cups, 
And  they  watch  too.     Now,  'mongst  this  flock  of 

drunkards, 

Am  I  to  put  our  Cassio  in  some  action  60 

That  may  offend  the  isle.     But  here  they  come: 
If  consequence  do  but  approve  my  dream, 
My  boat  sails  freely,  both  with  wind  and  stream. 

Re-enter  Cassio;  with  him  Montana  and  Gentlemen; 
Servants  following  with  wine. 

Cos.  'Fore  God,  they  have  given  me  a  rouse  already. 
Mon.  Good  faith,  a  little  one;   not  past  a  pint,  as  I 

am  a  soldier. 
logo.  Some  wine,  ho! 

[Sings]     And  let  me  the  canakin  clink,  clink; 
And  let  me  the  canakin  clink: 

A  soldier  's  a  man;  70 

A  life  's  but  a  span; 
Why  then  let  a  soldier  drink. 
Some  wine,  boys! 

Cas.  'Fore  God,  an  excellent  song. 

64 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

lago.  I  learned  it  in  England,  where  indeed  they  are 
most  potent  in  potting:  your  Dane,  your  Ger- 
man, and  your  swag-bellied  Hollander, — Drink, 
ho! — are  nothing  to  your  English. 

Cas.  Is  your  Englishman  so  expert  in  his  drinking? 

logo.  Why,  he  drinks  you  with  facility  your  Dane     80 
dead  drunk;    he  sweats  not  to  overthrow  your 
Almain;    he  gives  your  Hollander  a  vomit  ere 
the  next  pottle  can  be  filled. 

Cas.  To  the  health  of  our  general! 

Mon.  I  am  for  it,  lieutenant,  and  I  '11  do  you  justice. 

lago.  O  sweet  England! 

[SiHg-y]      King  Stephen  was  a  worthy  peer, 

His  breeches  cost  him  but  a  crown; 
He  held  them  sixpence  all  too  dear, 

With  that  he  call'd  the  tailor  lown.  90 

He  was  a  wight  of  high  renown, 
And  thou  art  but  of  low  degree : 

'Tis  pride  that  pulls  the  country  down; 
Then  take  thine  auld  cloak  about  thee. 

Some  wine,  ho! 
Cas.  Why,  this  is  a  more  exquisite  song  than  the 

other. 

lago.  Will  you  hear 't  again? 
Cas.  No;  for  I  hold  him  to  be  unworthy  of  his  place 

that  does  those  things.     WTell:    God's  above  100 

all;  and  there  be  souls  must  be  saved,  and  there 

be  souls  must  not  be  saved. 
lago.  It 's  true,  good  lieutenant. 
Cas.  For  mine  own  part — no  offence  to  the  general, 

nor  any  man  of  quality — I  hope  to  be  saved. 

63 


Act  II.  Sc.  Hi.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

lago.  And  so  do  I  too,  lieutenant. 

Cos.  Ay,  but,  by  your  leave,  not  before  me;  the 
lieutenant  is  to  be  saved  before  the  ancient. 
Let 's  have  no  more  of  this;  let 's  to  our  affairs. 
God  forgive  us  our  sins!  Gentlemen,  let 's  look  1 10 
to  our  business.  Do  not  think,  gentlemen,  I  am 
drunk:  this  is  my  ancient:  this  is  my  right 
hand,  and  this  is  my  left.  I  am  not  drunk 
now;  I  can  stand  well  enough,  and  speak  well 
enough. 

All.  Excellent  well. 

Cas.  Why,  very  well  then;  you  must  not  think  then 

that  I  am  drunk.  [Exit. 

Mon.  To  the  platform,  masters;   come,  let's  set  the 

W7atch.  1 20 

lago.  You  see  this  fellow  that  is  gone  before; 
He  is  a  soldier  fit  to  stand  by  Caesar 
And  give  direction:  and  do  but  see  his  vice; 
'Tis  to  his  virtue  a  just  equinox. 
The  one  as  long  as  the  other:    'tis  pity  of  him. 
I  fear  the  trust  Othello  puts  him  in 
On  some  odd  time  of  his  infirmity 
Will  shake  this  island. 

Mon.  But  is  he  often  thus? 

lago.  'Tis  evermore  the  prologue  to  his  sleep: 

He  '11  watch  the  horoloee  a  double  set,  130 

If  drink  rock  not  his  cradle. 

Mon.  It  were  well 

The  general  were  put  in  mind  of  it. 
Perhaps  he  sees  it  not,  or  his  good  nature 
Prizes  the  virtue  that  appears  in  Cassio 
And  looks  not  on  his  evils:   is  not  this  true? 
66 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

Enter  Roderigo. 

logo.    [Aside  to  him}  How  now,  Roderigo! 

I  pray  you,  after  the  lieutenant ;  go !  [Exit  Roderigo. 
Mon.  And  'tis  great  pity  that  the  noble  Moor 

Should  hazard  such  a  place  as  his  own  second 

With  one  of  an  ingraft  infirmity :  140 

It  were  an  honest  action  to  say 

So  to  the  Moor. 
logo.  Xot  I,  for  this  fair  island : 

I  do  love  Cassio  well,  and  would  do  much 

To  cure  him  of  this  evil : — But,  hark !   what  noise  ? 
[A  cry  within:  '  Help !  help ! ' 

Re-enter  Cassio,  driving  in  Roderigo. 

Cos.  'Zounds  !   you  rogue !   you  rascal ! 

Mon.  What 's  the  matter,  lieutenant? 

Cas.  A  knave  teach  me  my  duty !     But  I  '11  beat  the 

knave  into  a  wicker  bottle. 
Rod.  Beat  me ! 

Cas.  Dost  thou  prate,  rogue  ?        [Striking  Roderigo.   150 
Mon.  Nay,  good  lieutenant ;    I  pray  you,  sir,  hold 

your  hand. 

Cas.  Let  me  go,  sir,  or  I  '11  knock  you  o'er  the  mazzard. 
Mon.  Come,  come,  you  're  drunk. 

Cas.  Drunk!  [They  fight. 

Jago.   [Aside  to  Roderigo}  Away,  I  say;  go  out,  and  cry 

a  mutiny.  [Exit  Roderigo. 

Nay,  good  lieutenant !    God's  will,  gentlemen  ! 

Help,  ho ! — Lieutenant, — sir, — Montano. — sir : — 

Help,  masters ! — Here  's  a  goodly  watch  indeed  ! 

[A  bell  rings. 

Who  's  that  that  rings  the  bell  ? — Diablo,  ho ! 

67 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO. 

The  town  will  rise :  God's  will,  lieutenant,  hold  ;  160 
You  will  be  shamed  for  ever. 

Re-enter  Othello  and  Attendants. 

Oth.  What  is  the  matter  here  ? 

Mon.  'Zounds,  I  bleed  still ;   I  am  hurt  to  the  death. 

[Faints. 

Oth.  Hold,  for  your  lives ! 

logo.  Hold,    ho!      Lieutenant, — sir, — Montano, — gentle- 
men,— 

Have  you  forgot  all  sense  of  place  and  duty? 
Hold!  the  general  speaks  to  you;  hold,hold,  for  shame! 

Oth.  Why,  how  now,  ho !  from  whence  ariseth  this  ? 
Are  we  turn'd  Turks,  and  to  ourselves  do  that 
Which  heaven  hath  forbid  the  Ottomites  ? 
For  Christian  shame,  put  by  this  barbarous  brawl : 
He  that  stirs  next  to  carve  for  his  own  rage  171 

Holds  his  soul  light ;  he  dies  upon  his  motion. 
Silence  that  dreadful  bell :  it  frights  the  isle 
From  her  propriety.    What  is  the  matter,  masters  ? 
Honest  lago,  that  look'st  dead  with  grieving, 
Speak,  who  began  this  ?  on  thy  love,  I  charge  thee. 

lago.  I  do  not  know :  friends  all  but  now,  even  now, 
In  quarter,  and  in  terms  like  bride  and  groom 
Devesting  them  for  bed ;  and  then,  but  now, 
As  if  some  planet  had  unwitted  men,  180 

Swords  out,  and  tilting  one  at  other's  breast, 
In  opposition  bloody.    I  cannot  speak 
Any  beginning  to  this  peevish  odds ; 
And  would  in  action  glorious  I  had  lost 
Those  legs  that  brought  me  to  a  part  of  it ! 

Oth.  How  comes  it,  Michael,  you  are  thus  forgot? 

68 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  Hi. 

Cos.  I  pray  you,  pardon  me;  I  cannot  speak. 

Oth.  Worthy  Montano,  you  were  wont  be  civil; 
The  gravity  and  stillness  of  your  youth 
The  world  hath  noted,  and  your  name  is  great    190 
In  mouths  of  wisest  censure:   what's  the  matter, 
That  you  unlace  your  reputation  thus, 
And  spend  your  rich  opinion  for  the  name 
Of  a  night-brawler?  give  me  answer  to  it. 

Man.  Worthy  Othello,  I  am  hurt  to  danger: 
Your  officer,  lago,  can  inform  you — 
While  I  spare  speech,  which  something  now  offends 

me — 

Of  all  that  I  do  know:  nor  know  I  aught 
By  me  that 's  said  or  done  amiss  this  night; 
Unless  self-charity  be  sometimes  a  vice,  200 

And  to  defend  ourselves  it  be  a  sin 
When  violence  assails  us. 

Oth.  Now,  by  heaven, 

My  blood  begins  my  safer  guides  to  rule, 
And  passion,  having  my  best  judgement  collied, 
Assays  to  lead  the  way:  if  I  once  stir, 
Or  do  but  lift  this  arm,  the  best  of  you 
Shall  sink  in  my  rebuke.    Give  me  to  know 
How  this  foul  rout  began,  who  set  it  on, 
And  he  that  is  approved  in  this  offence, 
Though  he  had  twinn'd  with  me,  both  at  a  birth,  210 
Shall  lose  me.     What,  in  a  town  of  war, 
Yet  wild,  the  people's  hearts  brimful  of  fear, 
To  manage  private  and  domestic  quarrel, 
In  night,  and  on  the  court  and  guard  of  safety! 
'Tis  monstrous.    lago,  who  began  't? 

Man.  If  partially  affined,  or  leagued  in  office, 
Thou  dost  deliver  more  or  less  than  truth, 

69 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Thou  art  no  soldier. 

Ictgo.  Touch  me  not  so  near: 

I  had  rather  have  this  tongue  cut  from  my  mouth 
Than  it  should  do  offence  to  Michael  Cassio;       220 
Yet,  I  persuade  myself,  to  speak  the  truth 
Shall  nothing  wrong  him.     Thus  it  is,  general. 
Montano  and  myself  being  in  speech, 
There  comes  a  fellow  crying  out  for  help, 
And  Cassio  following  him  with  determined  sword, 
To  execute  upon  him.    Sir,  this  gentleman 
Steps  in  to  Cassio  and  entreats  his  pause: 
Myself  the  crying  fellow  did  pursue, 
Lest  by  his  clamour — as  it  so  fell  out —  229 

The  town  might  fall  in  fright:   he,  swift  of  foot, 
Outran  my  purpose;   and  I  return'd  the  rather 
For  that  I  heard  the  clink  and  fall  of  swords, 
And  Cassio  high  in  oath;   which  till  to-night 
I  ne'er  might  say  before.     When  I  came  back — 
For  this  was  brief — I  found  them  close  together, 
At  blow  and  thrust;   even  as  again  they  were 
When  you  yourself  did  part  them. 
More  of  this  matter  cannot  I  report: 
But  men  are  men;  the  best  sometimes  forget: 
Though  Cassio  did  some  little  wrong  to  him,       240 
As  men  in  rage  strike  those  that  wish  them  best, 
Yet  surely  Cassio,  I  believe,  received 
From  him  that  fled  some  strange  indignity, 
Which  patience  could  not  pass. 

Oth.  I  know,  lago, 

Thy  honesty  and  love  doth  mince  this  matter, 
Making  it  light  to  Cassio.    Cassio,  I  love  thee; 
But  never  more  be  officer  of  mine. 
70 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

Re-enter  Desdetnona,  attended. 

Look,  if  my  gentle  love  be  not  raised  up ! 
I  '11  make  thee  an  example. 

Des.  What 's  the  matter  ? 

Oth.  All 's  well  now,  sweeting ;  come  away  to  bed,      250 
Sir,  for  your  hurts,  myself  will  be  your  surgeon : 

[To  Montana,  ^vho  is  led  off. 
Lead  him  off. 

lago,  look  with  care  about  the  town, 
And  silence  those  whom  this  vile  brawl  distracted. 
Come,  Desdemona :   'tis  the  soldiers'  life 
To  have  their  balmy  slumbers  waked  with  strife. 

[E.vcnnt  all  but  lago  and  Cassio. 

lago.  What,  are  you  hurt,  lieutenant  ? 

Cos.  Ay,  past  all  surgery. 

lago.  Marry,  heaven  forbid! 

Cos.  Reputation,  reputation,  reputation  !     O,  I  have  260 
lost  my  reputation !     I  have  lost  the  immortal 
part   of   myself,    and   what   remains    is   bestial. 
My  reputation,  lago,  my  reputation ! 

lago.  As  I  am  an  honest  man,  I  thought  you  had 
received  some  bodily  wound ;  there  is  more 
sense  in  that  than  in  reputation.  Reputation  is 
an  idle  and  most  false  imposition  ;  oft  got  with- 
out merit  and  lost  without  deserving:  you  have 
lost  no  reputation  at  all,  unless  you  repute  your- 
self such  a  loser.  What,  man !  there  are  ways  270 
to  recover  the  general  again  :  you  are  but  now 
cast  in  his  mood,  a  punishment  more  in  policy 
than  in  malice ;  even  so  as  one  would  beat  his 
offenceless  dog  to  affright  an  imperious  lion : 
sue  to  him  again,  and  he  's  yours. 

71 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO. 

Cos.  I  will  rather  sue  to  be  despised  than  to  deceive 
so  good  a  commander  with  so  slight,  so  drunken, 
and  so  indiscreet  an  officer.  Drunk?  and  speak 
parrot?  and  squabble?  swagger?  swear?  and 
discourse  fustian  with  one's  own  shadow?  O  280 
thou  invisible  spirit  of  wine,  if  thou  hast  no 
name  to  be  known  by,  let  us  call  thee  devil ! 

logo.  What  was  he  that  you  followed  with  your 
sword  ?  What  had  he  done  to  you  ? 

Cos.  I  know  not. 

logo.  Is  't  possible  ? 

Cos.  I  remember  a  mass  of  things,  but  nothing  dis- 
tinctly ;  a  quarrel,  but  nothing  wherefore.  O 
God,  that  men  should  put  an  enemy  in  their 
mouths  to  steal  away  their  brains !  that  we  290 
should,  with  joy,  pleasance,  revel  and  applause, 
transform  ourselves  into  beasts! 

lago.  Why,  but  you  are  now  well  enough :  how 
came  you  thus  recovered? 

Cas.  It  hath  pleased  the  devil  drunkenness  to  give 
place  to  the  devil  wrath :  one  unperfectness 
shows  me  another,  to  make  me  frankly  despise 
myself. 

lago.  Come,  you  are  too  severe  a  moraler :    as  the 

time,  the  place,  and  the  condition  of  this  country  300 
stands,  I  could  heartily  wish  this  had  not  be- 
fallen ;   but  since  it  is  as  it  is,  mend  it  for  your 
own  good. 

Cas.  I  will  ask  him  for  my  place  again ;    he  shall 

tell  me   I   am   a   drunkard !     Had  I   as   many 

mouths  as  Hydra,  such  an  answer  would  stop 

them  all.     To  be  now  a  sensible  man,  by  and 

72 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

by  a  fool,  and  presently  a  beast!  O  strange! 
Every  inordinate  cup  is  unblest,  and  the  in- 
gredient is  a  devil.  310 

lago.  Come,  come,  good  wine  is  a  good  familiar 
creature,  if  it  be  well  used:  exclaim  no  more 
against  it.  And,  good  lieutenant,  I  think  you 
think  I  love  you. 

Cas.  I  have  well  approved  it,  sir.     I  drunk! 

lago.  You  or  any  man  living  may  be  drunk  at  some 
time,  man.  I  '11  tell  you  what  you  shall  do. 
Our  general's  wife  is  now  the  general.  I  may 
say  so  in  this  respect,  for  that  he  hath  devoted 
and  given  up  himself  to  the  contemplation,  mark  320 
and  denotement  of  her  parts  and  graces:  con- 
fess yourself  freely  to  her;  importune  her  help 
to  put  you  in  your  place  again :  she  is  of  so  free, 
so  kind,  so  apt,  so  blessed  a  disposition,  she 
holds  it  a  vice  in  her  goodness  not  to  do  more 
than  she  is  requested :  this  broken  joint  between 
you  and  her  husband  entreat  her  to  splinter; 
and,  my  fortunes  against  any  lay  worth  naming, 
this  crack  of  your  love  shall  grow  stronger  than 
it  was  before.  330 

Cas.  You  advise  me  well. 

lago.  I  protest,  in  the  sincerity  of  love  and  honest 
kindness. 

Cas.  I  think  it  freely;  and  betimes  in  the  morning  I 
will  beseech  the  virtuous  Desdemona  to  under- 
take for  me:  I  am  desperate  of  my  fortunes  if 
they  check  me  here. 

lago.  You  are  in  the  right.  Good  night,  lieutenant; 
I  must  to  the  watch. 

73 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO. 

Cos.  Goo'd  night,  honest  lago.  [Exit.  340 

logo.  And  what 's  he  then  that  says  I  play  the  villain? 
When  this  advice  is  free  I  give  and  honest, 
Probal  to  thinking,  and  indeed  the  course 
To  win  the  Moor  again?    For  'tis  most  easy 
The  inclining  Desdemona  to  subdue 
In  any  honest  suit.     She  's  framed  as  fruitful 
As  the  free  elements.    And  then  for  her 
To  win  the  Moor,  were  't  to  renounce  his  baptism, 
All  seals  and  symbols  of  redeemed  sin, 
His  soul  is  so  enfetter'd  to  her  love,  350 

That  she  may  make,  unmake,  do  what  she  list, 
Even  as  her  appetite  shall  play  the  god 
With  his  weak  function.    How  am  I  then  a  villain 
To  counsel  Cassio  to  this  parallel  course, 
Directly  to  his  good?     Divinity  of  hell! 
When  devils  will  the  blackest  sins  put  on, 
They  do  suggest  at  first  with  heavenly  shows, 
As  I  do  now:   for  whiles  this  honest  fool 
Plies  Desdemona  to  repair  his  fortunes, 
And  she  for  him  pleads  strongly  to  the  Moor,      360 
I  '11  pour  this  pestilence  into  his  ear, 
That  she  repeals  him  for  her  body's  lust; 
And  by  how  much  she  strives  to  do  him  good, 
She  shall  undo  her  credit  with  the  Moor. 
So  will  I  turn  her  virtue  into  pitch ; 
And  out  of  her  own  goodness  make  the  net 
That  shall  enmesh  them  all. 

Enter  Roderigo. 

How  now,  Roderigo! 
Rod.  I  do  follow  here  in  the  chase,  not  like  a  hound 

74 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

that  hunts,  but  one  that  fills  up  the  cry.     My 
money  is  almost  spent;    I  have  been  to-night  370 
exceedingly  well  cudgelled;    and    I    think    the 
issue  will  be,  I  shall  have  so  much  experience 
for  my  pains;  and  so,  with  no  money  at  all  and 
a  little  more  wit,  return  again  to  Venice. 
logo.  How  poor  are  they  that  have  not  patience! 
What  wound  did  ever  heal  but  by  degrees? 
Thou  know'st  we  work  by  wit  and  not  by  witch- 
craft, 

And  wit  depends  on  dilatory  time. 
Does  't  not  go  well?    Cassio  hath  beaten  thee,    380 
And  thou  by  that  small  hurt  hast  cashier'd  Cassio: 
Though  other  things  grow  fair  against  the  sun, 
Yet  fruits  that  blossom  first  will  first  be  ripe: 
Content  thyself  awhile.     By  the  mass,  'tis  morning; 
Pleasure  and  action  make  the  hours  seem  short. 
Retire  thee ;   go  where  thou  art  billeted : 
Away,  I  say;  thou  shalt  know  more  hereafter: 
Nay,  get  thee  gone.      [E.rit  Rod.]     Two  things  are 

to  be  done: 

My  wife  must  move  for  Cassio  to  her  mistress; 
I  '11  set  her  on ;  390 

Myself  the  while  to  draw  the  Moor  apart, 
And  bring  him  jump  when  he  may  Cr.ssio  find     • 
Soliciting  his  wife:   ay,  that 's  the  way; 
Dull  not  device  by  coldness  and  delay.  [Exit. 


75 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

ACT  THIRD. 
Scene  I. 

Before  the  castle. 
Enter  Cassio  and  some  Musicians. 

Cas.  Masters,  play  here ;  I  will  content  your  pains ; 

Something  that's  brief;    and  bid    'Good    morrow, 
general.'  [Music. 

Enter  Clonm. 

Clo.  Why,  masters,  have  your  instruments  been  in 
Naples,  that  they  speak  i'  the  nose  thus? 

First  Mus.  How,  sir,  how? 

Clo.  Are  these,  I  pray  you,  wind-instruments? 

First  Mus.  Ay,  marry,  are  they,  sir. 

Clo.  O,  thereby  hangs  a  tail. 

First  Mus.  Whereby  hangs  a  tale,  sir? 

Clo.  Marry,  sir,  by  many  a  wind-instrument  that  I     10 
know.     But,  masters,  here  's  money  for  you: 
and  the  general  so  likes  your  music,  that  he  de- 
sires you,  for  love's  sake,  to  make  no  more  noise 
.  with  it. 

First  Mus.  Well,  sir,  we  will  not. 

Clo.  If  you  have  any  music  that  may  not  be  heard, 
to  't  again:  but,  as  they  say,  to  hear  music  the 
general  does  not  greatly  care. 

First  Mus.  We  have  none  such,  sir. 

Clo.  Then  put  up  your  pipes  in  your  bag,  for  I  '11     20 
away:  go;  vanish  into  air;  away! 

[Exeunt  Musicians. 

Cas.  Dost  thou  hear,  my  honest  friend  ? 

76 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

Clo.  No,  I  hear  not  your  honest  friend ;   I  hear  you. 

Cas.  Prithee,  keep  up  thy  quillets.  There  's  a  poor 
piece  of  gold  for  thee:  if  the  gentlewoman  that 
attends  the  general's  wife  be  stirring,  tell  her 
there  's  one  Cassio  entreats  her  a  little  favour  of 
speech:  wilt  thou  do  this? 

Clo.  She  is  stirring,  sir :  if  she  will  stir  hither,  I  shall 

seem  to  notify  unto  her.  30 

Cas.  Do,  good  my  friend.  [Exit  Clown. 

Enter  lago. 

In  happy  time,  lago. 

logo.  You  have  not  been  a-bed,  then? 

Cas.  Why,  no;  the  day  had  broke 

Before  we  parted.    I  have  made  bold,  lago, 
To  send  in  to  your  wife :   my  suit  to  her 
Is,  that  she  will  to  virtuous  Desdemona 
Procure  me  some  access. 

lago.  I  '11  send  her  to  you  presently ; 

And  I  '11  devise  a  mean  to  draw  the  Moor 
Out  of  the  way,  that  your  converse  and  business 
May  be  more  free.  40 

Cas.  I  humbly  thank  you  for 't.   [Exit  lago.}   I  never  knew 
A  Florentine  more  kind  and  honest. 

Enter  Emilia. 

Emil.  Good  morrow,  good  lieutenant:   I  am  sorry 
For  your  displeasure;  but  all  will  sure  be  well. 
The  general  and  his  wife  are  talking  of  it, 
And  she  speaks  for  you  stoutly:   the  Moor  replies, 
That  he  you  hurt  is  of  great  fame  in  Cyprus 
And  great  affinity,  and  that  in  wholesome  wisdom 

77 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.-iii.      TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

He  might  not  but  refuse  you;    but  he  protests  he 
loves  you, 

And  needs  nc  other  suitor  but  his  likings  50 

To  take  the  safest  occasion  by  the  front 

To  bring  you  in  again. 
Cos.  Yet,  I  beseech  you, 

If  you  think  fit,  or  that  it  may  be  done, 

Give  me  advantage  of  some  brief  discourse 

With  Desdemona  alone. 
Eniil.  Pray  you,  come  in: 

I  will  bestow  you  where  you  shall  have  time 

To  speak  your  bosom  freely. 

Cas.  I  am  much  bound  to  you. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  II. 

A  room  in  the  castle. 
Enter  Othello,  logo,  and  Gentlemen. 

Oth.  These  letters  give,  lago,  to  the  pilot; 
And  by  him  do  my  duties  to  the  senate: 
That  done,  I  will  be  walking  on  the  works; 
Repair  there  to  me. 

lago.  Well,  my  good  lord,  I  '11  do  't. 

Oth.  This  fortification,  gentlemen,  shall  we  see  't? 

Gent.  We  '11  wait  upon  your  lordship.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

The  garden  of  the  castle. 
Enter  Desdemona,  Cassio,  and  Emilia. 

DCS.  Be  thou  assured,  good  Cassio,  I  will  do 
All  my  abilities  in  thy  behalf. 

78 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 

Emit.  Good  madam,  do:  I  warrant  it  grieves  my  husband 
As  if  the  case  were  his. 

DCS.  O,  that 's  an  honest  fellow.    Do  not  doubt,  Cassio, 
But  I  will  have  my  lord  and  you  again 
As  friendly  as  you  were. 

Cos.  Bounteous  madam, 

Whatever  shall  become  of  Michael  Cassio, 
He  's  never  any  thing  but  your  true  servant. 

Des.  I  know  't :  I  thank  you.    You  do  love  my  lord  :     10 
You  have  knownjiim  long;  and  be  you  well  assured 
He  shall  in  strangeness  stand  no  farther  off 
Than  in  a  politic  distance. 

Cas.  Ay,  but,  lady, 

That  policy  may  either  last  so  long, 
Or  feed  upon  such  nice  and  waterish  diet, 
Or  breed  itself  so  out  of  circumstance, 
That,  I  being  absent  and  my  place  supplied, 
My  general  will  forget  my  love  and  service. 

DCS.  Do  not  doubt  that;   before  Emilia  here 

I  give  thee  warrant  of  thy  place:   assure  thee,       20 

If  I  do  vow  a  friendship,  I  '11  perform  it 

To  the  last  article:   my  lord  shall  never  rest; 

I  '11  watch  him  tame  and  talk  him  out  of  patience; 

His  bed  shall  seem  a  school,  his  board  a  shrift; 

I  '11  intermingle  every  thing  he  does 

With  Cassio's  suit:    therefore  be  merry,  Cassio; 

For  thy  solicitor  shall  rather  die 

Than  give  thy  cause  away. 

Enter  Othello  and  I  ago,  at  a  distance. 

Emil.  Madam,  here  comes  my  lord. 

Cas.  Madam,  I  '11  take  my  leave.  30 

79 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO. 

Des.  Nay,  stay  and  hear  me  speak. 

Cas.  Madam,  not  now :   I  am  very  ill  at  ease, 

Unfit  for  mine  own  purposes. 

DCS.  Well,  do  your  discretion.  [Exit  Cassio. 

lago.  Ha!   I  like  not  that. 
Oth.  What  dost  thou  say? 

lago.  Nothing,  my  lord :  or  if — I  know  not  what. 
Oth.  Was  not  that  Cassio  parted  from  my  wife? 
logo.  Cassio,  my  lord !   No,  sure,  I  cannot  think  it, 

That  he  would  steal  away  so  g-uilty-like, 

Seeing  you  coming. 

Oth.  I  do  believe  'twas  he. 

DCS.  How  now,  my  lord! 

I  have  been  talking  with  a  suitor  here. 

A  man  that  languishes  in  your  displeasure. 
Oth.  Who  is  't  you  mean? 
Des.  Why,  your  lieutenant,  Cassio.    Good  my  lord, 

If  I  have  any  grace  or  power  to  move  you, 

His  present  reconciliation  take; 

For  if  he  be  not  one  that  truly  loves  you, 

That  errs  in  ignorance  and  not  in  cunning, 

I  have  no  judgement  in  an  honest  face:  50 

I  prithee,  call  him  back. 

Oth.  Went  he  hence  now? 

DCS.  Ay,  sooth;  so  humbled, 

That  he  hath  left  part  of  his  grief  with  me, 

To  suffer  with  him.  Good  love,  call  him  back. 
Oth.  Not  now,  sweet  Desdemona;  some  other  time. 
Des.  But  shall 't  be  shortly? 

Oth.  The  sooner,  sweet,  for  you. 

Des.  Shall 't  be  to-night  at  supper? 
Oth.  No,  not  to-night. 

80 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  Hi. 

Des.  To-morrow  dinner  then? 

Oth.  I  shall  not  dine  at  home; 

I  meet  the  captains  at  the  citadel. 

DCS.  Why  then  to-morrow  night;  or  Tuesday  morn;    60 
On  Tuesday  noon,  or  night;   on  Wednesday  morn: 
I  prithee,  name  the  time;   but  let  it  not 
Exceed  three  days;  in  faith,  he  's  penitent; 
And  yet  his  trespass,  in  our  common  reason — 
Save  that,  they  say,  the  wars  must  make  examples 
Out  of  their  best — is  not  almost  a  fault 
To  incur  a  private  check.     When  shall  he  come? 
Tell  me,  Othello :   I  wonder  in  my  soul, 
What  you  would  ask  me,  that  I  should  deny,          69 
Or  stand  so  mammering  on.   What !   Michael  Cassio, 
That  came  a-wooing  with  you,  and  so  many  a  time 
When  I  have  spoke  of  you  dispraisingly 
Hath  ta'en  your  part;  to  have  so  much  to  do 
To  bring  him  in!    Trust  me,  I  could  do  much — 

Oth.  Prithee,  no  more:   let  him  come  when  he  will; 
I  will  deny  thee  nothing. 

Des.  Why,  this  is  not  a  boon ; 

'Tis  as  I  should  entreat  you  wear  your  gloves, 
Or  feed  on  nourishing  dishes,  or  keep  you  warm, 
Or  sue  to  you  to  do  a  peculiar  profit 
To  your  own  person :  nay,  when  I  have  a  suit        80 
Wherein  I  mean  to  touch  your  love  indeed, 
It  shall  be  full  of  poise  and  difficult  weight, 
And  fearful  to  be  granted. 

Oth.  I  will  deny  thee  nothing: 

Whereon,  I  do  beseech  thee,  grant  me  this, 
To  leave  me  but  a  little  to  myself. 

Des.  Shall  I  deny  you?  no:  farewell,  my  lord. 

81 


Act  III.  Sc.  Hi.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Oth.  Farewell,  my  Desdemona :  I  '11  come  to  thee  straight. 
Des.  Emilia,  come.    Be  as  your  fancies  teach  you; 

Whate'er  you  be,  I  am  obedient. 

[Exeunt  Desdemona  and  Emilia. 
Oth.  Excellent  wretch!    Perdition  catch  my  soul,        90 

But  I  do  love  thee!  and  when  I  love  thee  not, 

Chaos  is  come  again. 
lago.  My  noble  lord, — 

Oth.  What  dost  thou  say,  lago? 

lago.  Did  Michael  Cassio,  when  you  woo'd  my  lady, 

Know  of  your  love? 

Oth.  He  did,  from  first  to  last:  why  dost  thou  ask? 
lago.  But  for  a  satisfaction  of  my  thought; 

No  further  harm. 

Oth.  Why  of  thy  thought,  lago? 

lago.  I  did  not  think  he  had  been  acquainted  with  her. 
Oth.  O,  yes,  and  went  between  ns  very  oft.  100 

lago.  Indeed! 
Oth.  Indeed!   ay,  indeed:   discern'st  thou  aught  in  that? 

Is  he  not  honest? 
lago.  Honest,  my  lord! 
Oth.  Honest!   ay,  honest. 
lago.  My  lord,  for  aught  I  know. 
Oth.  What  dost  thou  think? 
lago.  Think,  my  lord! 
Oth'.  Think,  my  lord !    By  heaven,  he  echoes  me, 

As  if  there  were  some  monster  in  his  thought 

Too  hideous  to  be  shown.    Thou  dost  mean  some- 
thing: 

I  heard  thee  say  even  now,  thou  likedst  not  that, 

When  Cassio  left  my  wife:  what  didst  not  like?    no 

And  when  I  told  thee  he  was  of  my  counsel 

82 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 

In  my  whole  course  of  wooing,  thou  criedst  '  Indeed  !  ' 
And  didst  contract  and  purse  thy  brow  together, 
As  if  thou  then  hadst  shut  up  in  thy  brain 
Some  horrible  conceit:   if  thou  dost  love  me, 
Show  me  thy  thought. 

logo.  My  lord,  you  know  I  love  yor 

Oth.  I  think  thou  dost; 

And  for  I  know  thou  'rt  full  of  love  and  honesty 
And  weigh'st  thy  words  before  thou  givest  them 

breath, 

Therefore  these  stops  of  thine  fright  me  the  more: 
For  such  things  in  a  false  disloyal  knave  121 

Are  tricks  of  custom;  but  in  a  man  that 's  just 
They  're  close  delations,  working  from  the  heart, 
That  passion  cannot  rule. 

logo.  For  Michael  Cassio, 

I  dare  be  sworn  I  think  that  he  is  honest. 

Oth.  I  think  so  too. 

logo.  Men  should  be  what  they  seem; 

Or  those  that  be  not,  would  they  might  seem  none! 

Oth.  Certain,  men  should  be  what  they  seem. 

logo.  Why  then  I  think  Cassio  's  an  honest  man. 

Oth.  Nay,  yet  there  's  more  in  this:  130 

I  prithee,  speak  to  me  as  to  thy  thinkings, 
As  thou  dost  ruminate,  and  give  thy  worst  of  thoughts 
The  worst  of  words. 

logo.  Good  my  lord,  pardon  me: 

Though  I  am  bound  to  every  act  of  duty, 
I  am  not  bound  to  that  all  slaves  are  free  to. 
Utter  my  thoughts  ?   Why,  say  they  are  vile  and  false ; 
And  where  's  that  palace  whereinto  foul  things 
Sometimes  intrude  not?  who  has  a  breast  so  pure 

83 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

But  some  uncleanly  apprehensions 

Keep  leets  and  law-days,  and  in  session  sit          140 

With  meditations  lawful? 

Oth.  Thou  dost  conspire  against  thy  friend,  lago, 

If  thou  but  think'st  him  wrong' d  and  makest  his  ear 
A  stranger  to  thy  thoughts. 

logo.  I  do  beeseech  you — 

Though  I  perchance  am  vicious  in  my  guess, 
As,  I  confess,  it  is  my  nature's  plague 
To  spy  into  abuses,  and  oft  my  jealousy 
Shapes  faults  that  are  not — that  your  wisdom  yet, 
From  one  that  so  imperfectly  conceits, 
Would  take  no  notice,  nor  build  yourself  a  trouble 
Out  of  his  scattering  and  unsure  observance.     151 
It  were  not  for  your  quiet  nor  your  good, 
Nor  for  my  manhood,  honesty,  or  wisdom, 
To  let  you  know  my  thoughts. 

Oth.  What  dost  thou  mean? 

lago.  Good  name  in  man  and  woman,  dear  my  lord, 
Is  the  immediate  jewel  of  their  souls: 
Who  steals  my  purse  steals  trash;    'tis  something, 

nothing; 

'Twas  mine,  'tis  his,  and  has  been  slave  to  thousands ; 
But  he  that  filches  from  me  my  good  name 
Robs  me  of  that  which  not  enriches  him  160 

And  makes  me  poor  indeed. 

Oth.  By  heaven,  I  '11  know  thy  thoughts. 

lago.  You  cannot,  if  my  heart  were  in  your  hand; 
Nor  shall  not,  whilst  'tis  in  my  custody. 

Oth.  Ha! 

lago.  O,  beware,  my  lord,  of  jealousy; 

It  is  the  green-eyed  monster,  which  doth  mock 

84 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 

The  meat  it  feeds  on :  that  cuckold  lives  in  bliss 
Who,  certain  of  his  fate,  loves  not  his  wronger; 
But,  O,  what  damned  minutes  tells  he  o'er 
Who  dotes,  yet  doubts,  suspects,  yet  strongly  loves ! 

Oth.  O  misery!  171 

logo.  Poor  and  content  is  rich,  and  rich  enough; 
But  riches  fineless  is  as  poor  as  winter 
To  him  that  ever  fears  he  shall  be  poor: 
Good  heaven,  the  souls  of  all  my  tribe  defend 
From  jealousy! 

Oth.  Why,  why  is  this! 

Think'st  thou  I  'Id  make  a  life  of  jealousy, 

To  follow  still  the  changes  of  the  moon 

With  fresh  suspicions?    No;  to  be  once  in  doubt 

Is  once  to  be  resolved:  exchange  me  for  a  goat,  180 

When  I  shall  turn  the  business  of  my  soul 

To  such  exsufflicate  and  blown  surmises, 

Matching  thy  inference.  'Tis  not  to  make  me  jealous 

To  say  my  wife  is  fair,  feeds  well,  loves  company, 

Is  free  of  speech,  sings,  plays  and  dances  well ; 

Where  virtue  is,  these  are  more  virtuous: 

Nor  from  mine  own  weak  merits  will  I  draw 

The  smallest  fear  or  doubt  of  her  revolt ; 

For  she  had  eyes,  and  chose  me.    No,  lago; 

I  '11  see  before  I  doubt;   when  I  doubt,  prove;  193 

And  on  the  proof,  there  is  no  more  but  this, 

Away  at  once  with  love  or  jealousy! 

lago.  I  am  glad  of  it ;  for  now  I  shall  have  reason 
To  show  the  love  and  duty  that  I  bear  you 
With  franker  spirit:   therefore,  as  I  am  bound, 
Receive  it  from  me.    I  speak  not  yet  of  proof. 
Look  to  your  wife:  observe  her  well  with  Cassio; 

85 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Wear  your  eye  thus,  not  jealous  nor  secure: 
I  would  not  have  your  free  and  noble  nature 
Out  of  self-bounty  be  abused;  look  to't:  200 

I  know  our  country  disposition  well; 
In  Venice  they  do  let  heaven  see  the  pranks 
They  dare  not  show  their  husbands;  their  best  con- 
science 
Is  not  to  leave  't  undone,  but  keep  't  unknown. 

Oth.  Dost  thou  say  so? 

logo.  She  did  deceive  her  father,  marrying  you; 

And  when  she  seem'd  to  shake  and  fear  your  looks, 
She  loved  them  most. 

Oth.  And  so  she  did. 

lago.  Why,  go  to  then; 

She  that  so  young  could  give  out  such  a  seeming, 
To  seel  her  father's  eyes  up  close  as  oak —  210 

He  thought  'twas  witchcraft — but  I  am  much  to 

blame; 

I  humbly  do  beseech  you  of  your  pardon 
For  too  much  loving  you. 

Oth.  I  am  bound  to  thee  for  ever. 

lago.  I  see  this  hath  a  little  dash'd  your  spirits. 

Oth.  Not  a  jot,  not  a  jot. 

lago.  F  faith,  I  fear  it  has. 

I  hope  you  will  consider  what  is  spoke 
Comes  from  my  love;  but  I  do  see  you're  moved: 
I  am  to  pray  you  not  to  strain  my  speech 
To  grosser  issues  nor  to  larger  reach 
Than  to  suspicion.  220 

Oth.  I  will  not. 

lago.  Should  you  do  so,  my  lord, 

My  speech  should  fall  into  such  vile  success 
As  my  thoughts  aim  not  at.     Cassio  's  my  worthy 
friend — 

86 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  in. 

My  lord,  I  see  you  're  moved. 

Oth.  No,  not  much  moved: 

I  do  not  think  but  Desdemona  's  honest. 

logo.  Long  live  she  so!  and  long  live  you  to  think  so! 

Oth.  And  yet,  how  nature  erring  from  itself — 

logo.  Ay,  there  's  the  point :   as — to  be  bold  with  you — • 
Not  to  effect  many  proposed  matches 
Of  her  own  clime,  complexion  and  degree,  230 

Whereto  we  see  in  all  things  nature  tends — 
Foh!    one  may  smell  in  such  a  will  most  rank, 
Foul  disproportion,  thoughts  unnatural. 
But  pardon  me:  I  do  not  in  position 
Distinctly  speak  of  her;   though  I  may  fear 
Her  will,  recoiling  to  her  better  judgement. 
May  fall  to  match  you  with  her  country  forms, 
And  happily  repent. 

Oth.  Farewell,  farewell: 

If  more  thou  dost  perceive,  let  me  know  more; 

Set  on  thy  wife  to  observe:    leave  me,  lago.       240 

I  ago.   [Going]  My  lord,  I  take  my  leave. 

Oth.  Why  did  I  marry?    This  honest  creature  doubtless 
Sees  and  knows  more,  much  more,  than  he  unfolds. 

lago.    [Returning]  My  lord,  I  would  I  might  entreat  your 

honour 

To  scan  this  thing  no  further;   leave  it  to  time: 
Though  it  be  fit  that  Cassio  have  his  place, 
For  sure  he  fills  it  up  with  great  ability, 
Yet,  if  you  please  to  hold  him  off  awhile, 
You  shall  by  that  perceive  him  and  his  means: 
Note  if  your  lady  strain  his  entertainment  250 

With  any  strong  or  vehement  importunity; 
Much  will  be  seen  in  that.    In  the  mean  time, 

87 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Let  me  be  thought  too  busy  in  my  fears — 
As  worthy  cause  I  have  to  fear  I  am — 
And  hold  her  free,  I  do  beseech  your  honour. 

Oth.  Fear  not  my  government. 

logo.  I  once  more  take  my  leave.  [Exit. 

Oth.  This  fellow  's  of  exceeding  honesty, 

And  knows  all  qualities,  with  a  learned  spirit, 
Of  human  dealings.     If  I  do  prove  her  haggard,  260 
Though  that  her  jesses  were  my  dear  heart-strings, 
I  'Id  whistle  her  off  and  let  her  down  the  wind 
To  prey  at  fortune.    Haply,  for  I  am  black 
And  have  not  those  soft  parts  of  conversation 
That  chamberers  have,  or  for  I  am  declined 
Into  the  vale  of  years, — yet  that 's  not  much — 
She  's  gone ;   I  am  abused,  and  my  relief 
Must  be  to  loathe  her.    O  curse  of  marriage, 
That  we  can  call  these  delicate  creatures  ours, 
And  not  their  appetites !    I  had  rather  be  a  toad, 
And  live  upon  the  vapour  of  a  dungeon,  271 

Than  keep  a  corner  in  the  thing  I  love 
For  others'  uses.    Yet,  'tis  the  plague  of  great  ones; 
Prerogatived  are  they  less  than  the  base; 
'Tis  destiny  unshunnable,  like  death: 
Even  then  this  forked  plague  is  fated  to  us 
When  we  do  quicken.     Desdemona  comes: 

Re-enter  Desdemona  and  Emilia. 

If  she  be  false,  O,  then  heaven  mocks  itself! 
I  '11  not  believe  't. 
Des.  How  now,  my  dear  Othello! 

Your  dinner,  and  the  generous  islanders  280 

By  you  invited,  do  attend  your  presence. 
88 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  Hi. 

Oth.  I  am  to  blame. 

Des.  Why  do  you  speak  so  faintly? 

Are  you  not  well? 

Oth.  I  have  a  pain  upon  my  forehead  here. 

DCS.  Faith,  that 's  with  watching;   'twill  away  again: 
Let  me  but  bind  it  hard,  within  this  hour 
It  will  be  well. 

Oth.  Your  napkin  is  too  little; 

[He  puts  the  handkerchief  from  him;  and  she  drops  it. 
Let  it  alone.    Come,  I  '11  go  in  with  you. 

DCS.  I  am  very  sorry  that  you  are  not  well. 

[Exeunt  Othello  and  Desdemona. 

Emil.  I  am  glad  I  have  found  this  napkin:  290 

This  was  her  first  remembrance  from  the  Moor: 
My  wayward  husband  hath  a  hundred  times 
Woo'd  me  to  steal  it;  but  she  so  loves  the  token, 
For  he  conjured  her  she  should  ever  keep  it, 
That  she  reserves  it  evermore  about  her 
To  kiss  and  talk  to.    I  '11  have  the  work  ta'en  out, 
And  give  't  lago :   what  he  will  do  with  it 
Heaven  knows,  not  I; 
I  nothing  but  to  please  his  fantasy. 

Re-enter  lago. 

logo.  How  now!  what  do  you  here  alone?  300 

Emil.  Do  not  you  chide;  I  have  a  thing  for  you. 

lago.  A  thing  for  me?  it  is  a  common  thing — 

Emil.  Ha! 

lago.  To  have  a  foolish  wife. 

Emil.  O,  is  that  all?    What  will  you  give  me  now 

For  that  same  handkerchief? 

lago.  What  handkerchief? 

89 


Act  III.  Sc.  Hi.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Emil.  What  handkerchief! 

Why,  that  the  Moor  first  gave  to  Desdemona; 
That  which  so  often  you  did  bid  me  steal. 

logo.  Hast  stol'n  it  from  her?  310 

Emil.  No,  faith;   she  let  it  drop  by  negligence, 

And,  to  the  advantage,  I  being  here  took  't  up. 
Look,  here  it  is. 

I  ago.  A  good  wench ;  give  it  me. 

Emil.  What  will  you  do  with  't,  that  you  have  been  so 

earnest 
To  have  me  filch  it? 

I  ago.  [Snatching  it]   Why,  what 's  that  to  you? 

Emil.  If 't  be  not  for  some  purpose  of  import, 
Give  't  me  again  :   poor  lady,  she  '11  run  mad 
When  she  shall  lack  it. 

logo.  Be  not  acknown  on  't;   I  have  use  for  it. 

Go,  leave  me.  [Exit  Emilia.  320 

I  will  in  Cassio's  lodging  lose  this  napkin, 

And  let  him  find  it.    Trifles  light  as  air 

Are  to  the  jealous  confirmations  strong 

As  proofs  of  holy  writ:   this  may  do  something. 

The  Moor  already  changes  with  my  poison: 

Dangerous  conceits  are  in  their  natures  poisons, 

Which  at  the  first  are  scarce  found  to  distaste, 

But  with  a  little  act  upon  the  blood 

Burn  like  the  mines  of  sulphur.    I  did  say  so: 

Look,  where  he  comes! 

Re-enter  Othello. 

Not  poppy,  nor  mandragora,  330 
Nor  all  the  drowsy  syrups  of  the  world, 
Shall  ever  medicine  thee  to  that  sweet  sleep 
90 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  Hi. 

Which  thou  owedst  yesterday. 

Oth.  Ha!  ha!  false  to  me? 

logo.  Why,  how  now,  general!   no  more  of  that. 

Oth.  Avaunt!   be  gone!   thou  hast  set  me  on  the  rack: 
I  swear  'tis  better  to  be  much  abused 
Than  but  to  know  't  a  little. 

logo.  How  now,  my  lord! 

Oth.  What  sense  had  I  of  her  stol'n  hours  of  lust? 
I  saw  't  not,  thought  it  not,  it  harm'd  not  me: 
I  slept  the' next  night  well,  was  free  and  merry;   340 
I  found  not  Cassio's  kisses  on  her  lips: 
He  that  is  robb'd,  not  wanting  what  is  stol'n, 
Let  him  not  know  't  and  he  's  not  robbed  at  all. 

logo.  I  am  sorry  to  hear  this. 

Oth.  I  had  been  happy,  if  the  general  camp, 

Pioners  and  all,  had  tasted  her  sweet  body, 
So  I  had  nothing  known.    O,  now  for  ever 
Farewell  the  tranquil  mind!   farewell  content! 
Farewell  the  plumed  troop  and  the  big  wars 
That  make  ambition  virtue!     O,  farewell,  350 

Farewell  the  neighing  steed  and  the  shrill  trump, 
The  spirit-stirring  drum,  the  ear-piercing  fife, 
The  royal  banner  and  all  quality, 
Pride,  pomp  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war! 
And,  O  you  mortal  engines,  ariose  rude  throats 
The  immortal  Jove's  dread  clamours  counterfeit, 
Farewell!    Othello's  occupation's  gone! 

I  ago.  Is  't  possible,  my  lord? 

Oth.  Villain;  be  sure  thou  prove  my  love  a  whore; 

Be  sure  of  it;   give  me  the  ocular  proof;  360 

Or,  by  the  worth  of  man's  eternal  soul, 
Thou  hadst  been  better  have  been  born  a  dog 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Than  answer  my  waked  wrath! 

lago.  Is  't  come  to  this? 

Oth.  Make  me  to  see  't;  or  at  the  least  so  prove  it, 

That  the  probation  bear  no  hinge  nor  loop 

To  hang  a  doubt  on;   or  woe  upon  thy  life! 
lago.  My  noble  lord, — 
Oth.  If  thou  dost  slander  her  and  torture  me, 

Never  pray  more;   abandon  all  remorse; 

On  horror's  head  horrors  accumulate;  370 

Do  deeds  to  make  heaven  weep,  all  earth  amazed; 

For  nothing  canst  thou  to  damnation  add 

Greater  than  that.  . 
lago.  O  grace!    O  heaven  defend  me! 

Are  you  a  man?  have  you  a  soul  or  sense? 

God  be  wi'  you;    take  mine    office.     O    wretched 
fool, 

That  livest  to  make  thine  honesty  a  vice! 

0  monstrous  world!    Take  note,  take  note,  O  world, 
To  be  direct  and  honest  is  not  safe. 

1  thank  you  for  this  profit,  and  from  hence 

I  '11  love  no  friend  sith  love  breeds  such  offence.  380 

Oth.  Nay,  stay:   thou  shouldst  be  honest. 

lago.  I  should  be  wise;   for  honesty  's  a  fool, 
And  loses  that  it  works  for. 

Oth.  By  the  world, 

I  think  my  wife  be  honest,  and  think  she  is  not; 
I  think  that  thou  art  just,  and  think  thou  art  not : 
I  '11  have  some  proof.    Her  name,  that  was  as  fresh 
As  Dian's  visage,  is  now  begrimed  and  black 
As  mine  own  face.    If  there  be  cords,  or  knives, 
Poison,  or  fire,  or  suffocating  streams, 
I  '11  not  endure  it.    Would  I  were  satisfied!          390 
92 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 

lago.  I  see,  sir,  you  are  eaten  up  with  passion: 
I  do  repent  me  that  I  put  it  to  you. 
You  would  be  satisfied? 

Gth.  Would!   nay,  I  will. 

lago.  And  may:  but,  how?  how  satisfied,  my  lord? 
Would  you,  the  supervisor,  grossly  gape  on? 
Behold  her  topp'd? 

Oth.  Death  and  damnation!   O! 

lago.  It  were  a  tedious  difficulty,  I  think, 

To  bring  them  to  that  prospect:   damn  them  then, 

If  ever  mortal  eyes  do  see  them  bolster 

More  than  their  own!    What  then?  how  then?    400 

What  shall  I  say?    Where  's  satisfaction? 

It  is  impossible  you  should  see  this, 

Were  they  as  prime  as  goats,  as  hot  as  monkeys, 

As  salt  as  wolves  in  pride,  and  fools  as  gross 

As  ignorance  made  drunk.    But  yet,  I  say, 

If  imputation  and  strong  circumstances, 

Which  lead  directly  to  the  door  of  truth, 

Will  give  you  satisfaction,  you  may  have  't. 

Oth.  Give  me  a  living  reason  she  's  disloyal. 

lago.  I  do  not  like  the  office:  410 

But  sith  I  am  enter'd  in  this  cause  so  far, 
Prick'd  to  't  by  foolish  honesty  and  love, 
I  will  go  on.    I  lay  with  Cassio  lately, 
And  being  troubled  with  a  raging  tooth, 
I  could  not  sleep. 

There  are  a  kind  of  men  so  loose  of  soul, 
That  in  their  sleeps  will  mutter  their  affairs : 
One  of  this  kind  is  Cassio: 
In  sleep  I  heard  him  say  '  Sweet  Desdemona, 
Let  us  be  wary,  let  us  hide  our  loves';  420 

93 


Act  III.  Sc.  Hi     TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

And    then,    sir,    would    he    gripe    and    wring    my 
hand, 

Cry  '  O  sweet  creature ! '  and  then  kiss  me  hard, 

As  if  he  pluck'd  up  kisses  by  the  roots, 

That  grew  upon  my  lips :  then  laid  his  leg 

Over  my  thigh,  and  sigh'd  and  kiss'd,  and  then 

Cried  '  Cursed  fate  that  gave  thee  to  the  Moor! ' 
Oth.  O  monstrous!    monstrous! 

logo.  Nay,  this  was  but  his  dream. 

Oth.  But  this  denoted  a  foregone  conclusion: 

'Tis  a  shrewd  doubt,  though  it  be  but  a  dream. 
logo.  And  this  may  help  to  thicken  other  proofs          430 

That  do  demonstrate  thinly. 

Oth.  I  '11  tear  her  all  to  pieces. 

logo.  Nay,  but  be  wise :  yet  we  see  nothing  done ; 

She  may  be  honest  yet.    Tell  me  but  this ; 

Have  you  not  sometimes  seen  a  handkerchief 

Spotted  with  strawberries  in  your  wife's  hand: 
Oth.  I  gave  her  such  a  one;  'twas  my  first  gift. 
logo.  I  know  not  that :   but  such  a  handkerchief — 

I  am  sure  it  was  your  wife's — did  I  to-day 

See  Cassio  wipe  his  beard  with. 
Oth.  If  it  be  that,— 

logo.  If  it  be  that,  or  any  that  was  hers,  440 

It  speaks  against  her  with  the  other  proofs. 
Oth.  O,  that  the  slave  had  forty  thousand  lives! 

One  is  too  poor,  too  weak  for  my  revenge. 

Now  do  I  see  'tis  true.    Look  here,  lago; 

All  my  fond  love  thus  do  I  blow  to  heaven: 

'Tis  gone. 

Arise,  black  vengeance,  from  thy  hollow  cell! 

Yield  up,  O  love,  thy  crown  and  hearted  throne 

1    94 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 

To  tyrannous  hate!    Swell,  bosom,  with  thy  fraught, 
For  'tis  of  aspics'  tongues! 

I  ago.  Yet  be  content.  450 

Oth.  O,  blood,  blood,  blood! 

logo.  Patience,  I  say;  your  mind  perhaps  may  change. 

Oth.  Never,  lago.    Like  to  the  Pontic  sea, 

Whose  icy  current  and  compulsive  course 
Ne'er  feels  retiring  ebb,  but  keeps  due  on 
To  the  Propontic  and  the  Hellespont; 
Even  so  my  bloody  thoughts,  with  violent  pace, 
Shall  ne'er  look  back,  ne'er  ebb  to  humble  love, 
Till  that  a  capable  and  wide  revenge  459 

Swallow  them  up.    Now,  by  yond  marble  heaven, 
In  the  due  reverence  of  a  sacred  vow  [Kneels. 

I  here  engage  my  words. 

logo.  Do  not  rise  yet.       [Kneels. 

Witness,  you  ever-burning  lights  above, 
You  elements  that  clip  us  round  about, 
Witness  that  here  lago  doth  give  up 
The  execution  of  his  wit,  hands,  heart, 
To  wrong'd  Othello's  service!    Let  him  command, 
And  to  obey  shall  be  in  me  remorse, 
What  bloody  business  ever.  [They  rise. 

Oth.  I  greet  thy  love, 

Not  with  vain  thanks,  but  with  acceptance  bounteous, 
And  will  upon  the  instant  put  thee  to  't:  471 

Within  these  three  days  let  me  hear  thee  say 
That  Cassio  's  not  alive. 

lago.  My  friend  is  dead;  'tis  done  at  your  request: 
But  let  her  live. 

Oth.  Damn  her,  lewd  minx!     O,  damn  her! 

Come,  go  with  me  apart;   I  will  withdraw, 

95 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO. 

To  furnish  me  with  some  swift  means  of  death 
For  the  fair  devil.    Now  art  thou  my  lieutenant. 
I  ago.  I  am  your  own  for  ever.  [E.veunt. 

Scene  IV. 

Before  the  castle. 
Enter  Desdemona,  Emilia,  and  Clown. 

DCS.   Do     you     know,     sirrah,     where     Lieutenant 

Cassio  lies  ? 

Clo.  I  dare  not  say  he  lies  anywhere. 
Des.  Why,  man? 
Clo.  He  's  a  soldier;  and  for  one  to  say  a  soldier  lies, 

is  stabbing. 

DCS.  Go  to:   where  lodges  he? 
Clo.  To  tell  you  where  he  lodges,  is  to  tell  you  where 

I  lie. 

DCS.  Can  any  thing  be  made  of  this?  10 

Clo.  I  know  not  where  he  lodges;    and  for  me   to 

devise  a  lodging,  and  say  he  lies  here  or  he  lies 

there,  were  to  lie  in  mine  own  throat. 
Des.  Can  you  inquire  him  out  and  be  edified  by 

report? 
Clo.  I  will  catechize  the  world  for  him ;  that  is,  make 

questions  and  by  them  answer. 
Des.  Seek  him,  bid  him  come  hither:  tell  him  I  have 

moved  my  lord  on  his  behalf  and  hope  all  will 

be  well.  20 

Clo.  To  do  this  is  within  the  compass  of  man's  wit, 

and  therefore  I  will  attempt  the  doing  it.  [Exit. 

Des.  Where  should  I  lose  that  handkerchief,  Emilia? 
Emil.  I  know  not,  madam. 
Des.  Believe  me,  I  had  rather  have  lost  my  purse 

96 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

Full  of  crusadoes :   and,  but  my  noble  Moor 
Is  true  of  mind  and  made  of  no  such  baseness 
As  jealous  creatures  are,  it  were  enough 
To  put  him  to  ill  thinking. 

Emil.  Is  he  not  jealous? 

Des.  Who,  he.?    I  think  the  sun  where  he  was  born      30 
Drew  all  such  humours  from  him. 

Emil.  Look,  where  he  comes. 

Des.  I  will  not  leave  him  now  till  Cassio 
Be  call'd  to  him. 

Enter  Othello. 

How  is  't  with  you,  my  lord? 

Oth.  Well,  my  good  lady.   [Aside}   O,  hardness  to  dis- 
semble! 

How  do  you,  Desdemona? 

Des.  Well,  my  good  lord. 

Oth.  Give  me  your  hand :  this  hand  is  moist,  my  lady. 
Des.  It  yet  has  felt  no  age  nor  known  no  sorrow. 
Oth.  This  argues  fruitfulness  and  liberal  heart: 

Hot,  hot,  and  moist:   this  hand  of  yours  requires 

A  sequester  from  liberty,  fasting  and  prayer,          40 

Much  castigation,  exercise  devout; 

For  here  's  a  young  and  sweating  devil  here, 

That  commonly  rebels.    'Tis  a  good  hand, 

A  frank  one. 
Des.  You  may,  indeed,  say  so; 

For  'twas  that  hand  that  gave  away  my  heart. 
Oth.  A  liberal  hand:   the  hearts  of  old  gave  hands; 

But  our  new  heraldry  is  hands,  not  hearts. 
DCS.  I  cannot  speak  of  this.    Come  now,  your  promise. 
Oth.  What  promise,  chuck? 

97 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

DCS.  I  have  sent  to  bid  Cassio  come  speak  with  you.    50 

Oth.  I  have  a  salt  and  sorry  rheum  offends  me ; 
Lend  me  thy  handkerchief. 

DCS.  Here,  my  lord. 

Oth.  That  which  I  gave  you. 

DCS.  I  have  it  not  about  me. 

Oth.  Not? 

DCS.  No,  indeed,  my  lord. 

Oth.  That 's  a  fault.     That  handkerchief 
Did  an  Egyptian  to  my  mother  give; 
She  was  a  charmer,  and  could  almost  read 
The  thoughts  of  people:    she  told  her,  while    she 

kept  it 

'Twould  make  her  amiable  and  subdue  my  father 
Entirely  to  her  love,  but  if  she  lost  it  60 

Or  made  a  gift  of  it,  my  father's  eye 
Should  hold  her  loathed  and  his  spirits  should  hunt 
After  new  fancies:   she  dying  gave  it  me, 
And  bid  me,  when  my  fate  would  have  me  wife, 
To  give  it  her.    I  did  so:  and  take  heed  on  't; 
Make  it  a  darling  like  your  precious  eye; 
To  lose  't  or  give  't  away  were  such  perdil:ion 
As  nothing  else  could  match. 

Des.  Is  't  possible? 

Oth.  'Tis  true:  there  's  magic  in  a  web  of  it: 

A  sibyl,  that  had  number'd  in  the  world  70 

The  sun  to  course  two  hundred  compasses, 

In  her  prophetic  fury  sew'd  the  work; 

The  worms  were  hallow'd  that  did  breed  the  silk; 

And  it  was  dyed  in  mummy  which  the  skilful 

Conserved  of  maidens'  hearts. 

Des.  Indeed,  is  *t  true? 

98 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

Oth.  Most  veritable;   therefore  look  to  't  well. 

DCS.  Then  would  to  God  that  I  had  never  seen  't! 

Oth.  Ha!   wherefore? 

DCS.  Why  do  you  speak  so  startingly  and  rash? 

Oth.  Is  't  lost?  is  't  gone?  speak,  is  it  out  o'  the  way?  80 

DCS.  Heaven  bless  us! 

Oth.  Say  you? 

DCS.  It  is  not  lost ;  but  what  an  if  it  were  ? 

Oth.  How! 

DCS.  I  say,  it  is  not  lost. 

Oth.  Fetch  't,  let  me  see  it. 

Des.  Why,  so  I  can,  sir,  but  I  will  not  now. 

This  is  a  trick  to  put  me  from  my  suit : 

Pray  you,  let  Cassio  be  received  again. 
Oth.  Fetch  me  the  handkerchief:   my  mind  misgives. 
DCS.  Come,  come;  90 

You  '11  never  meet  a  more  sufficient  man. 
Oth.  The  handkerchief! 

DCS.  I  pray,  talk  me  of  Cassio. 

Oth.  The  handkerchief! 
DCS.  A  man  that  all  his  time 

Hath  founded  his  good  fortunes  on  your  love, 

Shared  dangers  with  you, — 
Oth.  The  handkerchief! 
DCS.  In  sooth,  you  are  to  blame. 

Oth.  Away!  [Exit. 

Emil.  Is  not  this  man  jealous? 
DCS.  I  ne'er  saw  this  before.  100 

Sure  there's  some  wonder  in  this  handkerchief: 

I  am  most  unhappy  in  the  loss  of  it. 
Emil.  'Tis  not  a  year  or  two  shows  us  a  man : 

They  are  all  but  stomachs  and  we  all  but  food; 

09 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

They  eat  us  hungerly,  and  when  they  are  full 

They  belch  us.    Look  you,  Cassio  and  my  husband. 

Enter  Cassio  and  logo. 

I  ago.  There  is  no  other  way;  'tis  she  must  do  't: 
And,  lo,  the  happiness!  go  and  importune  her. 

DCS.  How  now,  good  Cassio!  what 's  the  news  with  you? 

Cos.  Madam,  my  former  suit:  I  do  beseech  you          no 
That  by  your  virtuous  means  I  may  again 
Exist,  and  be  a  member  of  his  love 
Whom  I  with  all  the  office  of  my  heart 
Entirely  honour:  I  would  not  be  delay'd. 
If  my  offence  be  of  such  mortal  kind, 
That  nor  my  service  past  nor  present  sorrows 
Nor  purposed  merit  in  futurity 
Can  ransom  me  into  his  love  again, 
But  to  know  so  must  be  my  benefit; 
So  shall  I  clothe  me  in  a  forced  content  120 

And  shut  myself  up  in  some  other  course 
To  fortune's  alms. 

Des.  Alas,  thrice-gentle  Cassio! 

My  advocation  is  not  now  in  tune; 
My  lord  is  not  my  lord,  nor  should  I  know  him 
Were  he  in  favour  as  in  humour  alter'd. 
So  help  me  every  spirit  sanctified, 
As  I  have  spoken  for  you  all  my  best 
And  stood  within  the  blank  of  his  displeasure 
For  my  free  speech!    You  must  awhile  be  patient: 
What  I  can  do  I  will;  and  more  I  will  130 

Than  for  myself  I  dare :  let  that  suffice  you. 

logo.  Is  my  lord  angry? 

Emil.  .       He  went  hence  but  now, 

100 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

And  certainly  in  strange  unquietness. 

logo.  Can  he  be  angry?    I  have  seen  the  cannon, 
When  it  hath  blown  his  ranks  into  the  air, 
And,  like  the  devil,  from  his  very  arm 
Puff'd  his  own  brother;   and  can  he  be  angry? 
Something  of  moment  then:   I  will  go  meet  him: 
There  's  matter  in  't  indeed  if  he  be  angry. 

DCS.  I  prithee,  do  so.  [Exit  I  a  go. 

Something  sure  of  state,  140 

Either  from  Venice  some  unhatch'd  practice 
Made  demonstrable  here  in  Cyprus  to  him, 
Hath  puddled  his  clear  spirit;   and  in  such  cases 
Men's  natures  wrangle  with  inferior  things, 
Though  great  ones  are  their  object.    'Tis  even  so; 
For  let  our  finger  ache,  and  it  indues 
Our  other  healthful  members  even  to  that  sense 
Of  pain:  nay,  we  must  think  men  are  not  gods, 
Nor  of  them  look  for  such  observancy 
As  fits  the  bridal.    Beshrew  me  much,  Emilia,      150 
I  was,  unhandsome  warrior  as  I  am, 
Arraigning  his  unkindness  with  my  soul; 
But  now  I  find  I  had  suborn'd  the  witness, 
And  he  's  indicted  falsely. 

Emil.  Pray  heaven  it  be  state-matters,  as  you  think, 
And  no  conception  nor  no  jealous  toy 
Concerning  you. 

DCS.  Alas  the  day,  I  never  gave  him  cause! 

Emil.  But  jealous  souls  will  not  be  answer'd  so; 

They  are  not  ever  jealous  for  the  cause,  160 

But  jealous  for  they  are  jealous:   'tis  a  monster 
Begot  upon  itself,  born  on  itself. 

DCS.  Heaven  keep  that  monster  from  Othello's  mind! 

101 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Emil.  Lady,  amen. 

Des.  I  will  go  seek  him.     Cassio,  walk  hereabout : 

If  I  do  find  him  fit,  I  '11  move  your  suit, 

And  seek  to  effect  it  to  my  uttermost. 
Cas.  I  humbly  thank  your  ladyship. 

[Exeunt  Dcsdemona  and  Emilia. 

Enter  Bianco. 

Bian.  Save  you,  friend  Cassio! 

Cas.  What  make  you  from  home? 

How  is  it  with  you,  my  most  fair  Bianca?  170 

F  faith,  sweet  love,  I  was  coming  to  your  house. 

Bian.  And  I  was  going  to  your  lodging,  Cassio. 

What,  keep  a  week  away?  seven  days  and  nights? 
Eight  score  eight  hours?  and  lovers'  absent  hours, 
More  tedious  than  the  dial  eight  score  times? 

0  weary  reckoning! 

Cas.  Pardon  me,  Bianca: 

1  have  this  while  with  leaden  thoughts  been  press'd; 
But  I  shall  in  a  more  continuate  time 

Strike  off  this  score  of  absence.    Sweet  Bianca, 

[Giving  her  Desdemona's  handkerchief. 
Take  me  this  work  out. 

Bian.  O  Cassio,  whence  came  this? 

This  is  some  token  from  a  newer  friend:  181 

To  the  felt  absence  now  I  feel  a  cause: 
Is  't  come  to  this?    Well,  well. 

Cas.  Go  to,  woman ! 

Throw  your  vile  guesses  in  the  devil's  teeth, 
From  whence  you  have  them.    You  are  jealous  now 
That  this  is  from  some  mistress,  some  remembrance : 
No,  by  my  faith,  Bianca. 
1 02 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Bian.  Why,  whose  is  it? 

Cos.  I  know  not,  sweet:   I  found  it  in  my  chamber. 

I  like  the  work  well:   ere  it  be  demanded — 

As  like  enough  it  will — I  'Id  have  it  copied:  190 

Take  it,  and  do  't;  and  leave  me  for  this  time. 
Bian.  Leave  you!   wherefore? 
Cos.  I  do  attend  here  on  the  general; 

And  think  it  no  addition,  nor  my  wish, 

To  have  him  see  me  woman'd. 

Bian.  Why,  I  pray  you? 

Cos.  Not  that  I  love  you  not. 
Bian.  But  that  you  do  not  love  me. 

I  pray  you,  bring  me  on  the  way  a  little; 

And  say  if  I  shall  see  you  soon  at  night. 
Cos.  'Tis  but  a  little  way  that  I  can  bring  you ; 

For  I  attend  here:  but  I  '11  see  you  soon.  200 

Bian.  'Tis  very  good;  I  must  be  circumstanced.  [Exeunt. 

ACT   FOURTH. 
Scene  I. 

Cyprus.     Before  the  castle. 
Enter  Othello  and  logo. 

logo.  Will  you  think  so? 

Oth.  Think  so,  lago! 

lago.  What, 

To  kiss  in  private? 

Oth.  An  unauthorized  kiss. 

lago.  Or  to  be  naked  with  her  friend  in  bed 

An  hour  or  more,  not  meaning  any  harm? 
Oth.  Naked  in  bed,  lago,  and  not  mean  harm! 

103 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

It  is  hypocrisy  against  the  devil: 

They  that  mean  virtuously  and  yet  do  so, 

The  devil  their  virtue  tempts  and  they  tempt  heaven. 

logo.  So  they  do  nothing,  'tis  a  venial  slip: 

But  if  I  give  my  wife  a  handkerchief —  10 

Oth.  What  then? 

I  ago.  Why,  then,  'tis  hers,  my  lord;  and  being  hers, 
She  may,  I  think,  bestow  t  on  any  man. 

Oth.  She  is  protectress  of  her  honour  too : 
May  she  give  that? 

logo.  Her  honour  is  an  essence  that 's  not  seen; 
They  have  it  very  oft  that  have  it  not: 
But  for  the  handkerchief — 

Oth.  By  heaven,  I  would  most  gladly  have  forgot  it; 

Thou  said'st — O,  it  comes  o'er  my  memory,          20 
As  doth  the  raven  o'er  the  infected  house, 
Boding  to  all — he  had  my  handkerchief. 

logo.  Ay,  what  of  that? 

Oth.  That 's  not  so  good  now. 

logo.  What, 

If  I  had  said  I  had  seen  him  do  you  wrong? 
Or  heard  him  say — as  knaves  be  such  abroad, 
Who  having,  by  their  own  importunate  suit, 
Or  voluntary  dotage  of  some  mistress, 
Convinced  or  supplied  them,  cannot  choose 
But  they  must  blab — 

Oth.  Hath  he  said  anything? 

logo.  He  hath,  my  lord ;  but  be  you  well  assured,         30 
No  more  than  he  '11  unswear. 

Oth.  What  hath  he  said? 

lago.  Faith,  that  he  did — I  know  not  what  he  did. 

Oth.  What,  what? 

104 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

logo.  Lie — 

Oth.  With  her? 

logo.  With  her,  on  her;   what  you  will. 

Oth.  Lie  with  her!  lie  on  her! — We  say  lie  on  her, 
when  they  belie  her. — Lie  with  her!  'Zounds, 
that's  fulsome!  Handkerchief — confessions — 
handkerchief! — To  confess,  and  be  hanged 
for  his  labour ;  first,  to  be  hanged,  and  then  to  40 
confess.  I  tremble  at  it.  Nature  would  not  in- 
vest herself  in  such  shadowing  passion  without 
some  instruction.  It  is  not  words  that  shakes 
me  thus.  Pish!  Noses,  ears  and  lips.  Is 't  pos- 
sible ? — Confess  ? — Handkerchief  ? — O  devil ! 

[Falls  in  a  trance. 

logo.  Work  on, 

My  medicine,  work!    Thus  credulous  fools  are 

caught : 

And  many  worthy  and  chaste  dames  even  thus, 
All  guiltless,  meet  reproach.    What,  ho!   my  lord! 
My  lord,  I  say!    Othello! 

Enter  Cassio. 

How  now,  Cassio! 

Cos.  What 's  the  matter?  50 

logo.  My  lord  is  fall'n  into  an  epilepsy: 

This  is  his  second  fit;   he  had  one  yesterday. 

Cos.  Rub  him  about  the  temples. 

logo.  No,  forbear; 

The  lethargy  must  have  his  quiet  course: 
If  not,  he  foams  at  mouth,  and  by  and  by 
Breaks  out  to  savage  madness.    Look,  he  stirs: 
Do  you  withdraw  yourself  a  little  while, 

105 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

He  will  recover  straight :  when  he  is  gone, 
I  would  on  great  occasion  speak  with  you. 

{Exit  Cassio. 
How  is  it,  general?  have  you  not  hurt  your  head? 

Oth.  Dost  thou  mock  me? 

I  a  go.  I  mock  you!  no,  by  heaven.  61 

Would  you  would  bear  your  fortune  like  a  man! 

Oth.  A  horned  man  's  a  monster  and  a  beast. 

logo.  There  's  many  a  beast  then  in  a  populous  city, 
And  many  a  civil  monster. 

Oth.  Did  he  confess  it? 

lago.  Good  sir,  be  a  man; 

Think  every  bearded  fellow  that 's  but  yoked 

May  draw  with  you :  there  's  millions  now  alive 

That  nightly  lie  in  those  unproper  beds 

Which  they  dare  swear  peculiar:  your  case  is  better. 

O,  'tis  the  spite  of  hell,  the  fiend's  arch-mock,         71 

To  lip  a  wanton  in  a  secure  couch, 

And  to  suppose  her  chaste!    No,  let  me  know; 

And  knowing  what  I  am,  I  know  what  she  shall  be. 

Oth.  O,  thou  art  wise;   'tis  certain. 

lago.  Stand  you  awhile  apart; 

Confine  yourself  but  in  a  patient  list. 
Whilst  you  were  here  o'erwhelmed  with  your  grief — 
A  passion  most  unsuiting  such  a  man — 
Cassio  came  hither:  I  shifted  him  away, 
And  laid  good  'scuse  upon  your  ecstasy;  80 

Bade  him  anon  return  and  here  speak  with  me; 
The  which  he  promised.    Do  but  encave  yourself, 
And  mark  the  fleers,  the  gibes  and  notable  scorns, 
That  dwell  in  every  region  of  his  face; 
For  I  will  make  him  tell  the  tale  anew, 
106 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Where,  how,  how  oft,  how  long  ago  and  when 
He  hath  and  is  again  to  cope  your  wife : 
I  say,  but  mark  his  gesture.    Marry,  patience; 
Or  I  shall  say  you  are  all  in  all  in  spleen, 
And  nothing  of  a  man. 

Oth.  Dost  thou  hear,  lago?         90 

I  will  be  found  most  cunning  in  my  patience; 
But — -dost  thou  hear? — most  bloody. 

lago.  That 's  not  amiss ; 

But  yet  keep  time  in  all.     Will  you  withdraw  ? 

[Othello  retires. 

Now  will  I  question  Cassio  of  Bianca, 
A  housewife  that  by  selling  her  desires 
Buys  herself  bread  and  clothes :   it  is  a  creature 
That  dotes  on  Cassio;   as  'tis  the  strumpet's  plague 
To  beguile  many  and  be  beguiled  by  one. 
He,  when  he  hears  of  her,  cannot  refrain 
From  the  excess  of  laughter.    Here  he  comes.     100 

Re-enter  Cassio. 

As  he  shall  smile,  Othello  shall  go  mad; 

And  his  unbookish  jealousy  must  construe 

Poor  Cassio's  smiles,  gestures  and  light  behaviour, 

Quite  in  the  wrong.    How  do  you  now,  lieutenant? 
Cos.  The  worser  that  you  give  me  the  addition 

Whose  want  even  kills  me. 
lago.  Ply  Desdemona  well,  and  you  are  sure  on  't. 

Now,  if  this  suit  lay  in  Bianca's  power, 

How  quickly  should  you  speed! 

Cos.  Alas,  poor  caitiff! 

Oth.  Look,  how  he  laughs  already!  no 

lago.  I  never  knew  a  woman  love  man  so. 

107 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Cas.  Alas,    poor    rogue!     I    think,    i'    faith,    she    loves 
me. 

Oth.  Now  he  denies  it  faintly  and  laughs  it  out. 

logo.  Do  you  hear,  Cassio? 

Oth.  Now  he  importunes  him 

To  tell  it  o'er:   go  to;   well  said,  well  said. 

lago.  She  gives  it  out  that  you  shall  marry  her: 
Do  you  intend  it? 

Cas.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  120 

Oth.  Do  you  triumph,  Roman?  do  you  triumph? 

Cas.  I  marry  her!  what,  a  customer!  I  prithee, 
bear  some  charity  to  my  wit;  do  not  think  it  so 
unwholesome.  Ha,  ha,  ha! 

Oth.  So,  so,  so,  so :  they  laugh  that  win. 

lago.  Faith,  the  cry  goes  that  you  shall  marry  her. 

Cas.  Prithee,  say  true. 

lago.  I  am  a  very  villain  else. 

Oth.  Have  you  scored  me?    Well. 

Cas.  This  is  the  monkey's  own  giving  out:    she  is   130 
persuaded  I  will  marry  her,  out  of  her  own  love 
and  flattery,  not  out  of  my  promise. 

Oth.  lago  beckons  me;  now  he  begins  the  story. 

Cas.  She  was  here  even  now:  she  haunts  me  in  every 
place.  I  was  the  other  day  talking  on  the  sea- 
bank  with  certain  Venetians ;  and  thither  comes 
the  bauble,  and,  by  this  hand,  she  falls  me  thus 
about  my  neck — 

Oth.  Crying  '  O  dear  Cassio! '  as  it  were:  his  ges- 
ture imports  it.  14° 

Cas.  So  hangs  and  lolls  and  weeps  upon  me;  so 
hales  and  pulls  me:  ha,  ha,  ha! 

Oth.  Now   he  tells   how   she   plucked   him   to   my 

108 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

chamber.     O,  I  see  that  nose  of  yours,  but  not 

that  dog  I  shall  throw  it  to. 
Cos.  Well,  I  must  leave  her  company. 
I  ago.  Before  me !  look,  where  she  comes. 
Cos.  'Tis  such  another  fitchew !    marry,  a  perfumed 

one. 

Enter  Bianco. 

What  do  you  mean  by  this  haunting  of  me  ?  150 

Bian.  Let  the  devil  and  his  dam  haunt  you !  What 
did  you  mean  by  that  same  handkerchief  you 
gave  me  even  now !  I  was  a  fine  fool  to  take 
it.  I  must  take  out  the  work?  A  likely  piece 
of  work,  that  you  should  find  it  in  your  chamber, 
and  not  know  who  left  it  there !  This  is  some 
minx's  token,  and  I  must  take  out  the  work? 
There;  give  it  your  hobby-horse:  wheresoever 
you  had  it,  I  '11  take  out  no  work  on  't. 

Cos.  How  now,  my  sweet  Bianca!    how  now!    how  160 
now! 

Oth.  By  heaven,  that  should  be  my  handkerchief ! 

Bian.  An  you  '11  come  to  supper  to-night,  you  may ; 
an  you  will  not,  come  when  you  are  next  pre- 
pared for.  [Exit. 

logo.  After  her,  after  her. 

Cos.  Faith,  I  must ;  she  '11  rail  i'  the  street  else. 

lago.  Will  you  sup  there? 

Cas.  Faith,  I  intend  so. 

lago.  Well,  I  may  chance  to  see  you;    for  I  would  170 
very  fain  speak  with  you. 

Cas.  Prithee,  come  ;  will  you  ? 

lago.  Go  to  ;  say  no  more.  [Exit  Cassia. 

Oth.   [Advancing}   How  shall  I  murder  him,  lago? 

109 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

logo.  Did  you  perceive  how  he  laughed  at  his  vice? 

Oth.  O  lago ! 

I  ago.  And  did  you  see  the  handkerchief? 

Oth.  Was  that  mine? 

lago.  Yours,  by  this  hand :  and  to  see  how  he  prizes 

the  foolish  woman  your  wife!    she  gave  it  him,   180 
and  he  hath  given  it  his  whore. 

Oth.  I  would  have  him  nine  years  a-killing.  A  fine 
woman  !  a  fair  woman  !  a  sweet  woman  ! 

lago.  Nay,  you  must  forget  that. 

Oth.  Ay,  let  her  rot,  and  perish,  and  be  damned  to- 
night ;  for  she  shall  not  live :  no,  my  heart  is 
turned  to  stone ;  I  strike  it,  and  it  hurts  my 
hand.  O,  the  world  hath  not  a  sweeter  crea- 
ture: she  might  lie  by  an  emperor's  side,  and 
command  him  tasks.  190 

lago.  Nay,  that 's  not  your  way. 

Oth.  Hang  her !  I  do  but  say  what  she  is  :  so  deli- 
cate with  her  needle :  an  admirable  musician : 
O,  she  will  sing  the  savageness  out  of  a  bear: 
of  so  high  and  plenteous  wit  and  invention : — 

lago.  She  's  the  worse  for  all  this. 

Oth.  O,  a  thousand  thousand  times:  and  then,  of  so 
gentle  a  condition ! 

lago.  Ay,  too  gentle. 

Oth.  Nay,  that 's  certain  :  but  yet  the  pity  of  it,  lago !  200 
O  lago,  the  pity  of  it,  lago ! 

lago.  If  you  are  so  fond  over  her  iniquity,  give  her 
patent  to  offend ;  for,  if  it  touch  not  you,  it 
comes  near  nobody. 

Oth.  I  will  chop  her  into  messes :  cuckold  me! 

lago.  O,  'tis  foul  in  her. 

no 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Oth.  With  mine  officer ! 

logo.  That 's  fouler. 

Oth.  Get  me  some  poison,  lago  ;  this  night.     I  '11  not 

expostulate  with  her,  lest  her  body  and  beauty  210 

unprovide  my  mind  again  :   this  night,  lago. 
logo.  Do  it  not  with  poison,  strangle  her  in  her  bed, 

even  the  bed  she  hath  contaminated. 
Oth.  Good,  good :  the  justice  of  it  pleases :  very  good. 
lago.  And  for  Cassio,  let  me  be  his  undertaker :  you 

shall  hear  more  by  midnight. 
Oth.  Excellent  good.     [A  trumpet  within.}     What 

trumpet  is  that  same? 
lago.  Something  from  Venice,  sure.     Tis  Lodovico 

Come  from  the  duke :  and,  see,  your  wife  is  with  him. 

Enter  Lodovico,  Desdemona,  and  Attendants. 

Lod.  God  save  the  worthy  general ! 

Oth.  With  all  my  heart,  sir. 

Lod.  The  duke  and  senators  of  Venice  greet  you.         221 

[Gives  him  a  letter. 
Oth.  I  kiss  the  instrument  of  their  pleasures. 

[Opens  the  letter,  and  reads. 

Des.  And  what 's  the  news,  good  cousin  Lodovico  ? 
lago.  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  signior ; 

Welcome  to  Cyprus. 

Lod.  I  thank  you.     How  does  Lieutenant  Cassio? 
lago.  Lives,  sir. 
Des.  Cousin,  there  's  fall'n  between  him  and  my  lord 

An  unkind  breach :   but  you  shall  make  all  well. 
Oth.  Are  you  sure  of  that  ?  230 

Des.  My  lord  ? 
Oth.   [Reads]   '  This  fail  you  not  to  do  as  you  will — ' 

in 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Lod.  He  did  not  call ;  he  's  busy  in  the  paper. 

Is  there  division  'tVixt  my  lord  and  Cassio? 
DCS.  A  most  unhappy  one :   I  would  do  much 

To  atone  them,  for  the  love  I  bear  to  Cassio. 
Oth.  Fire  and  brimstone ! 
Des.  My  lord? 

Oth.  Are  you  wise? 

Des.  What,  is  he  angry  ? 
Lod.  May  be  the  letter  moved  him ; 

For,  as  I  think,  they  do  command  him  home, 

Deputing  Cassio  in  his  government. 
Des.  By  my  troth,  I  am  glad  on  't. 
Oth.  Indeed! 

Des.  My  lord  ?     240 

Oth.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  mad. 
Des.  Why,  sweet  Othello? 

Oth.  Devil !  [Striking  her. 

Des.  I  have  not  deserved  this. 
Lod.  My  lord,  this  would  not  be  believed  in  Venice, 

Though  I  should  swear  I  saw  't :  'tis  very  much  : 

Make  her  amends ;  she  weeps. 
Oth.  O  devil,  devil! 

If  that  the  earth  could  teem  with  woman's  tears, 

Each  drop  she  falls  would  prove  a  crocodile. 

Out  of  my  sight ! 

Des.  I  will  not  stay  to  offend  you.     [Going. 

Lod.  Truly,  an  obedient  lady :  •   250 

I  do  beseech  your  lordship,  call  her  back. 
Oth.  Mistress! 
Des.  My  lord? 

Oth.  What  would  you  with  her,  sir? 
Lod.  Who,  I,  my  lord  ? 

112 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Oth.  Ay ;   you  did  wish  that  I  would  make  her  turn : 
Sir,  she  can  turn  and  turn,  and  yet  go  on, 
And  turn  again  ;   and  she  can  weep,  sir,  weep ; 
And  she  's  obedient,  as  you  say,  obedient, 
Very  obedient.     Proceed  you  in  your  tears. 
Concerning  this,  sir, — O  well-painted  passion  ! — 
I  am  commanded  home.     Get  you  away ;  260 

I  '11  send  for  you  anon.     Sir,  I  obey  the  mandate, 
And  will  return  to  Venice.     Hence,  avaunt ! 

[E.rit  Dcsdemona. 

Cassio  shall  have  my  place.     And,  sir,  to-night, 
I  do  entreat  that  we  may  sup  together : 
You  are  welcome,  sir,  to  Cyprus.     Goats  and  mon- 
keys! [E.vit. 

Lod.  Is  this  the  noble  Moor  whom  our  full  senate 
Call  all  in  all  sufficient  ?     This  the  nature 
Whom  passion  could  not  shake  ?  whose  solid  virtue 
The  shot  of  accident  nor  dart  of  chance  270 

Could  neither  graze  nor  pierce  ? 

lago.  He  is  much  changed. 

Lod.  Are  his  wits  safe  ?  is  he  not  light  of  brain  ? 

logo.  He  's  that  he  is :   I  may  not  breathe  my  censure 
What  he  might  be :  if  what  he  might  he  is  not, 
I  would  to  heaven  he  were ! 

Lod.  What,  strike  his  wife. 

lago.  Faith,  that  was  not  so  well ;  yet  would  I  knew 
That  stroke  would  prove  the  worst ! 

Lod.  Is  it  his  use? 

Or  did  the  letters  work  upon  his  blood, 
And  new  create  this  fault  ? 

logo.  Alas,  alas ! 

It  is  not  honesty  in  me  to  speak  280 

113 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

What  I  have  seen  and  known.    You  shall  observe  him, 
And  his  own  courses  will  denote  him  so 
That  I  may  save  my  speech :   do  but  go  after, 
And  mark  how  he  continues. 
Lod.  I  am  sorry  that  I  am  deceived  in  him.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II. 

A  room  in  the  castle. 
Enter  Othello  and  Emilia. 

Oth.  You  have  seen  nothing,  then  ? 

Emil.  Nor  ever  heard,  nor  ever  did  suspect. 

Oth.  Yes,  you  have  seen  Cassio  and  she  together. 

Emil.  But  then  I  saw  no  harm,  and  then  I  heard 

Each  syllable  that  breath  made  up  between  them. 

Oth.  What,  did  they  never  whisper  ? 

Emil.  Never,  my  lord. 

Oth.  Nor  send  you  out  o'  the  way  ? 

Emil.  Never. 

Oth.  To  fetch  her  fan,  her  gloves,  her  mask,  nor  nothing  ? 

Emil.  Never,  my  lord.  10 

Oth.  That 's  strange. 

Emil.  I  durst,  my  lord,  to  wager  she  is  honest, 

Lay  down  my  soul  at  stake :  if  you  think  other, 
Remove  your  thought ;  it  doth  abuse  your  bosom. 
If  any  wretch  have  put  this  in  your  head, 
Let  heaven  requite  it  with  the  serpent's  curse! 
For  if  she  be  not  honest,  chaste  and  true, 
There  's  no  man  happy ;  the  purest  of  their  wives 
Is  foul  as  slander. 

Oth.  Bid  her  come  hither :  go.   [Exit  Emilia. 

She  says  enough  :  yet  she  's  a  simple  bawd  20 

114 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

That  cannot  say  as  much.     This  is  a  subtle  whore, 

A  closet  lock  and  key  of  villanous  secrets : 

And  yet  she  '11  kneel  and  pray ;   I  have  seen  her  do  't. 

Enter  Desdemona  ivith  Emilia. 

DCS.  My  lord,  what  is  your  will  ? 

Oth.  Pray,  chuck,  come  hither. 

Des.  What  is  your  pleasure? 

Oth.  Let  me  see  your  eyes ; 

Look  in  my  face. 

Des.  What  horrible  fancy  's  this  ? 

Oth.   [To  Emilia]   Some  of  your  function,  mistress, 

Leave  procreants  alone  and  shut  the  door  ; 

Cough,  or  cry  hem,  if  any  body  come : 

Your  mystery,  your  mystery:  nay,  dispatch.  30 

[Exit  Emilia. 
Des.  Upon  my  knees,  what  doth  your  speech  import  ? 

I  understand  a  fury  in  your  words, 

But  not  the  words. 
Oth.  Why,  what  art  thou  ? 

DCS.  Your  wife,  my  lord ;   your  true  and  loyal  wife. 
Oth.  Come,  swear  it,  damn  thyself ; 

Lest,  being  like  one  of  heaven,  the  devils  themselves 

Should   fear   to    seize    thee :     therefore   be    double- 
damn'd ; 

Swear  thou  art  honest. 

Des.  t  Heaven  doth  truly  know  it. 

Oth.  Heaven  truly  knows  that  thou  art  false  as  hell. 
Des.  To  whom,  my  lord  ?  with  whom  ?  how  am  I  false  ? 
Oth.  O  Desdemona!     Away!   away!   away!  41 

Des.  Alas  the  heavy  day !     Why  do  you  weep  ? 

Am  I  the  motive  of  these  tears,  my  lord  ? 

»^*^ 

"5 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO. 

If  haply  you  my  father  do  suspect 

An  instrument  of  this  your  calling  back, 

Lay  not  your  blame  on  me :  if  you  have  lost  him, 

Why,  I  have  lost  him  too. 

Oth.  Had  it  pleased  heaven 

To  try  me  with  affliction ;  had  they  rain'd 
All  kinds  of  sores  and  shames  on  my  bare  head, 
Steep'd  me  in  poverty  to  the  very  lips,  50 

Given  to  captivity  me  and  my  utmost  hopes, 
I  should  have  found  in  some  place  of  my  soul 
A  drop  of  patience :  but,  alas,  to  make  me 
A  fixed  figure  for  the  time  of  scorn 
To  point  his  slow  unmoving  finger  at ! 
Yet  could  I  bear  that  too ;  well,  very  well : 
But  there,  where  I  have  garner'd  up  my  heart, 
Where  either  I  must  live  or  bear  no  life, 
The  fountain  from  the  which  my  current  runs, 
Or  else  dries  up ;  to  be  discarded  thence !  60 

Or  keep  it  as  a  cistern  for  foul  toads 
To  knot  and  gender  in  !     Turn  thy  complexion  there, 
Patience,  thou  young  and  rose-lipp'd  cherubin, 
Ay,  there,  look  grim  as  hell ! 

Des,  I  hope  my  noble  lord  esteems  me  honest. 

Oth.  O,  ay ;  as  summer  flies  are  in  the  shambles, 
That  quicken  even  with  blowing.     O  thou  weed, 
Who  art  so  lovely  fair  and  smell'st  so  sweet 
That  the  sense  aches  at  thee,  would  thou  hadst  ne'er 
been  born ! 

Des.  Alas,  what  ignorant  sin  have  I  committed  ?  70 

Oth.  Was  this  fair  paper,  this  most  goodly  book, 

Made  to  write  '  whore  '  upon  ?     What  committed ! 
Committed!     O  thou  public  commoner! 
116 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

I  should  make  very  forges  of  my  cheeks, 

That  would  to  cinders  burn  up  modesty, 

Did  I  but  speak  thy  deeds.     What  committed ! 

Heaven  stops  the  nose  at  it,  and  the  moon  winks ; 

The  bawdy  wind,  that  kisses  all  it  meets, 

Is  hush'd  within  the  hollow  mine  of  earth, 

And  will  not  hear  it.     What  committed  !  80 

Impudent  strumpet! 

DCS.  By  heaven,  you  do  me  wrong. 

Oth.  Are  not  you  a  strumpet? 

Des.  No,  as  I  am  a  Christian : 

If  to  preserve  this  vessel  for  my  lord 
From  any  other  foul  unlawful  touch 
Be  not  to  be  a  strumpet,  I  am  none. 

Oth.  What,  not  a  whore? 

DCS.  No,  as  I  shall  be  saved. 

Oth.  Is  't  possible? 

DCS.  O,  heaven  forgive  us  ! 

Oth.  I  cry  you  mercy  then : 

I  took  you  for  that  cunning  whore  of  Venice 
That    married    with    Othello.      [Raising    his   voice] 
You,  mistress,  90 

That  have  the  office  opposite  to  Saint  Peter, 
And  keep  the  gate  of  hell ! 

Re-enter  Emilia. 

You,  you,  ay,  you ! 
We  have  done  our  course ;    there  's  money  for  your 

pains : 
I  pray  you,  turn  the  key,  and  keep  our  counsel. 

[Exit. 
Emil.  Alas,  what  does  this  gentleman  conceive? 

117 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

How  do  you,  madam  ?  how  do  you,  my  good  lady  ? 

DCS.  Faith,  half  asleep. 

Emit.  Good  madam,  what 's  the  matter  with  my  lord? 

Des.  With  who? 

Emit.  Why,  with  my  lord,  madam.  100 

DCS.  Who  is  thy  lord  ? 

Emil.  He  that  is  yours,  sweet  lady. 

Des.  I  have  none :  do  not  talk  to  me,  Emilia ; 
I  cannot  weep,  nor  answer  have  I  none 
But  what  should  go  by  water.     Prithee,  to-night 
Lay  on  my  bed  my  wedding  sheets  :  remember ; 
And  call  thy  husband  hither. 

Emil.  Here's  a  change  indeed! 

[Exit. 

DCS.  'Tis  meet  I  should  be  used  so,  very  meet. 

How  have  I  been  behaved,  that  he  might  stick 
The  small'st  opinion  on  my  least  misuse? 

Re-enter  Emilia,  with  lago. 

I  ago.  What  is  your  pleasure,  madam  ?     How  is  't  with 
you?  no 

DCS.  I  cannot  tell.     Those  that  do  teach  young  babes 

Do  it  with  gentle  means  and  easy  tasks : 

He  might  have  chid  me  so ;   for,  in  good  faith, 

I  am  a  child  to  chiding. 

lago.  What 's  the  matter,  lady  ? 

Emil.  Alas,  lago,  my  lord  hath  so  bewhored  her, 

Thrown  such  despite  and  heavy  terms  upon  her, 

As  true  hearts  cannot  bear. 
DCS.  Am  I  that  name,  lago? 

lago.  What  name,  fair  lady  ? 

Des.  Such  as  she  says  my  lord  did  say  I  was. 

118 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

Emil.  He  call'd  her  whore :  a  beggar  in  his  drink         120 
Could  not  have  laid  such  terms  upon  his  callet. 

logo.  Why  did  he  so  ? 

DCS.  I  do  not  know :   I  am  sure  I  am  none  such. 

logo.  Do  not  weep,  do  not  weep.     Alas  the  day ! 

Emil.  Hath  she  forsook  so  many  noble  matches, 
Her  father  and  her  country  and  her  friends, 
To  be  call'd  whore  ?  would  it  not  make  one  weep  ? 

Des.  It  is  my  wretched  fortune. 

lago.  Beshrew  him  for  't ! 

How  comes  this  trick  upon  him  ? 

Des.  Nay,  heaven  doth  know. 

Emil.  I  will  be  hang'd,  if  some  eternal  villain,  130 

Some  busy  and  insinuating  rogue, 
Some  cogging,  cozening  slave,  to  get  some  office. 
Have  not  devised  this  slander ;   I  '11  be  hang'd  else. 

logo.  Fie,  there  is  no  such  man :  it  is  impossible. 

Des.  If  any  such  there  be,  heaven  pardon  him ! 

Emil.  A  halter  pardon  him !  and  hell  gnaw  his  bones  ? 
Why  should  he  call  her  whore  ?  who  keeps  her  com- 
pany ? 

What  place?   what  time?    what  form?    what  likeli- 
hood? 

The  Moor's  abused  by  some  most  villanous  knave, 
Some  base  notorious  knave,  some  scurvy  fellow.  140 
O  heaven,  that  such  companions  thou  'Idst  unfold, 
And  put  in  every  honest  hand  a  whip 
To  lash  the  rascals  naked  through  the  world 
Even  from  the  east  to  the  west ! 

lago.  Speak  within  door. 

Emil.  O^fie  upon  them!     Some  such  squire  he  was 
That  turn'd  your  wit  the  seamy  side  without, 
119 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

And  made  you  to  suspect  me  with  the  Moor. 

I  ago.  You  are  a  fool ;  go  to. 

Des.  O  good  I  ago, 

What  shall  I  do  to  win  my  lord  again  ? 
Good  friend,  go  to  him ;  for,  by  this  light  of  heaven, 
I  know  not  how  I  lost  him.     Here  I  kneel:  151 

If  e'er  my  will  did  trespass  'gainst  his  love 
Either  in  discourse  of  thought  or  actual  deed, 
Or  that  mine  eyes,  mine  ears,  or  any  sense, 
Delighted  them  in  any  other  form, 
Or  that  I  do  not  yet,  and  ever  did, 
And  ever  will,  though  he  do  shake  me  off 
To  beggarly  divorcement,  love  him  dearly, 
Comfort  forswear  me !     Unkindness  may  do  much  ; 
And  his  unkindness  may  defeat  my  life,  160 

But  never  taint  my  love.     I  cannot  say  '  whore  ' : 
It  doth  abhor  me  now  I  speak  the  word  ; 
To  do  the  act  that  might  the  addition  earn 
Not  the  world's  mass  of  vanity  could  make  me. 

la-go.  I  pray  you,  be  content ;   'tis  but  his  humour : 
The  business  of  the  state  does  him  offence, 
And  he  does  chide  with  you. 

DCS.  If  'twere  no  other, — 

I  ago.  'Tis  but  so,  I  warrant.     [Trumpets  within. 

Hark,  how  these  instruments  summon  to  supper ! 
The  messengers  of  Venice  stay  the  meat :  170 

Go  in,  and  weep  not ;  all  things  shall  be  well. 

[Exeunt  Desdemona  and  Emilia. 

Enter  Roderigo. 

How  now,  Roderigo ! 

Rod.  I  do  not  find  that  thou  dealest  justly  with  me. 

120 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

I  ago.  What  in  the  contrary  ? 

Rod.  Every  day  thou  daffest  me  with  some  device, 
lago ;  and  rather,  as  it  seems  to  me  now,  keepest 
from  me  all  conveniency  than  suppliest  me  with 
the  least  advantage  of  hope.  I  will  indeed  no 
longer  endure  it ;  nor  am  I  yet  persuaded  to  put 
up  in  peace  what  already  I  have  foolishly  suf-  180 
fered. 

lago.  Will  you  hear  me,  Roderigo  ? 

Rod.  Faith,  for  I  have  heard  too  much ;  for  your 
words  and  performances  are  no  kin  together. 

lago.  You  charge  me  most  unjustly. 

Rod.  With  nought  but  truth.  I  have  wasted  myself 
out  of  my  means.  The  jewels  you  have  had 
from  me  to  deliver  to  Desdemona  would  half 
have  corrupted  a  votarist :  you  have  told  me  she 
hath  received  them  and  returned  me  expecta- 
tions and  comforts  of  sudden  respect  and  ac-  190 
quaintance  ;  but  I  find  none. 

lago.  Well ;  go  to ;  very  well. 

Rod.  Very  well !  go  to !  I  cannot  go  to,  man ;  nor 
'tis  not  very  well :  by  this  hand,  I  say  'tis  very 
scurvy,  and  begin  to  find  myself  fopped  in  it. 

lago.  Very  well. 

Rod.  I  tell  you  'tis  not  very  well.     I  will  make  myself 
known  to  Desdemona :    if  she  will  return  me  my 
jewels,  I  will  give  over  my  suit  and  repent  my 
unlawful  solicitation  ;    if  not,  assure  yourself  I  200 
will  seek  satisfaction  of  you. 

lago.  You  have  said  now. 

Rod.  Ay,  and  said  nothing  but  what  I  protest  intend- 
ment  of  doing. 

lago.  Why,  now  I  see  there  's  mettle  in  thee :    and 

121 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

even  from  this  instant  do  build  on  thee  a  better 
opinion  than  ever  before.  Give  me  thy  hand, 
Roderigo :  thou  hast  taken  against  me  a  most 
just  exception;  but  yet,  I  protest,  I  have  dealt 
more  directly  in  thy  affair.  210 

Rod.  It  hath  not  appeared. 

logo.  I  grant  indeed  it  hath  not  appeared,  and  your 
suspicion  is  not  without  wit  and  judgement. 
But,  Roderigo,  if  thou  hast  that  in  thee  indeed, 
which  I  have  greater  reason  to  believe  now  than 
ever,  I  mean  purpose,  courage  and  valour,  this 
night  show  it :  if  thou  the  next  night  following 
enjoy  not  Desdemona,  take  me  from  this  world 
with  treachery  and  devise  engines  for  my  life. 

Rod.  Well,  what  is  it?  is  it  within  reason  and  com-  220 
pass? 

logo.  Sir,  there  is  especial  commission  come  from 
Venice  to  depute  Cassio  in  Othello's  place. 

Rod.  Is  that  true  ?  why  then  Othello  and  Desdemona 
return  again  to  Venice. 

logo.  O,no ;  he  goes  into  Mauritania,  and  takes  away 
with  him  the  fair  Desdemona,  unless  his  abode  be 
lingered  here  by  some  accident:  wherein  none 
can  be  so  determinate  as  the  removing  of  Cassio.  230 

Rod.  How  do  you  mean,  removing  of  him  ? 

lago.  Why,  by  making  him  uncapable  of  Othello's 
place ;  knocking  out  his  brains. 

Rod.  And  that  you  would  have  me  to  do? 

lago.  Ay,  if  you  dare  do  yourself  a  profit  and  a  right. 
He  sups  to-night  with  a  harlotry,  and  thither  will 
I  go  to  him  :  he  knows  not  yet  of  his  honourable 
122 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  Hi. 

fortune.  If  you  will  watch  his  going  thence, 
which  I  will  fashion  to  fall  out  between  twelve 
and  one,  you  may  take  him  at  your  pleasure :  I  240 
will  be  near  to  second  your  attempt,  and  he  shall 
fall  between  us.  Come,  stand  not  amazed  at  it, 
but  go  along  with  me ;  I  will  show  you  such  a 
necessity  in  his  death  that  you  shall  think  your- 
self bound  to  put  it  on  him.  It  is  now  high 
supper-time,  and  the  night  grows  to  waste: 
about  it. 

Rod.  I  will  hear  further  reason  for  this. 

logo.  And  you  shall  be  satisfied.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

Another  room  in  the  castle. 

Enter  Othello,  Lodovico,  Desdemona,  Emilia,  and 
Attendants. 

Lod.  I  do  beseech  you,  sir,  trouble  yourself  no  further. 

Oth.  O,  pardon  me ;   'twill  do  me  good  to  walk. 

Lod.  Madam,  good  night ;  I  humbly  thank  your  ladyship. 

DCS.  Your  honour  is  most  welcome. 

Oth.  Will  you  walk,  sir? 

O, — Desdemona, — 

DCS.  My  lord  ? 

Oth.  Get  you  to  bed  on  the  instant ;  I  will  be  re- 
turned forthwith  :  dismiss  your  attendant  there : 
look  it  be  done. 

Des.  I  will,  my  lord.  10 

[Exeunt  Othello,  Lodovico,  and  Attendants. 

Einil.  How  goes  it  now?  he  looks  gentler  than  he  did. 

Des.  He  says  he  will  return  incontinent : 
He  hath  commanded  me  to  go  to  bed, 

123 


Act  IV.  Sc.  Hi.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO. 

And  bade  me  to  dismiss  you. 

EmiL  Dismiss  me! 

DCS.  It  was  his  bidding  ;   therefore,  good  Emilia, 
Give  me  my  nightly  wearing,  and  adieu : 
We  must  not  now  displease  him. 

EmiL  I  would  you  had  never  seen  him! 

Des.  So  would  not  I :  my  love  doth  so  approve  him,      19 
That  even  his  stubbornness,  his  checks,  his  frowns, — 
Prithee,    unpin    me, — have    grace    and    favour    in 
them. 

EmiL  I   have   laid   those    sheets   you  bade   me    on    the 
bed. 

DCS.  All 's  one.     Good  faith,  how  foolish  are  our  minds ! 
If  I  do  die  before  thee,  prithee,  shroud  me 
In  one  of  those  same  sheets. 

Emit.  •  Come,  come,  you  talk. 

DCS.  My  mother  had  a  maid  call'd  Barbara : 

She  was  in  love ;  and  he  she  loved  proved  mad 
And  did  forsake  her :  she  had  a  song  of  '  willow  ' ; 
An  old  thing  'twas,  but  it  express'd  her  fortune, 
And  she  died  singing  it :  that  song  to-night  30 

Will  not  go  from  my  mind ;  I  have  much  to  do 
But  to  go  hang  my  head  all  at  one  side 
And  sing  it  like  poor  Barbara.     Prithee,  dispatch. 

EmiL  Shall  I  go  fetch  your  night-gown  ? 

Des.  No,  unpin  me  here. 

This  Lodovico  is  a  proper  man. 

EmiL  A  very  handsome  man. 

Des.  He  speaks  well. 

EmiL  I  know  a  lady  in  Venice  would  have  walked 
barefoot  to  Palestine  for  a  touch  of  his  nether 
lip.  4b 

124 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  iii. 

Des.  [Singing]  The  poor  soul  sat  sighing  by  a  sycamore  tree, 

Sing  all  a  green  willow ; 
Her  hand  on  her  bosom,  her  head  on  her  knee, 

Sing  willow,  willow,  willow : 
The  fresh  streams  ran  by  her,  and  murmur'd  her 

moans ; 

Sing  willow,  willow,  willow  ; 

Her  salt  tears  fell  from  her,  and  soften'd  the  stones  ; — 
Lay  by  these : — 

[Singing^'  Sing  willow,  willow,  willow } 

Prithee,  hie  thee ;   he  '11  come  anon  : —  50 

[Singing]    Sing  alia  green  willow  must  be  my  garland. 
Let  nobody  blame  him ;   his  scorn  I  approve, — 

Nay,  that 's  not  next.     Hark !   who  is  't  that  knocks  ? 
Emit.  It 's  the  wind. 

Des.   [Singing]   I  call'd  my  love  false  love;    but  what 

said  he  then  ? 

Sing  willow,  willow,  willow : 
If  I  court  moe  women,  you  '11  couch  with  moe  men. 

So  get  thee  gone ;  good  night.     Mine  eyes  do  itch  ; 

Doth  that  bode  weeping? 

Emil.  'Tis  neither  here  nor  there. 

Des.  I  have  heard  it  said  so.     O,  these  men,  these  men ! 

Dost  thou  in  conscience  think, — tell  me,  Emilia, — 

That  there  be  women  do  abuse  their  husbands         62 

In  such  gross  kind? 

Emil.  There  be  some  such,  no  question. 

Des.  Wouldst  thou  do  such  a  deed  for  all  the  world  ? 
Emil.  Why,  would  not  you? 

No,  by  this  heavenly  light ! 

125 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Emil.  Nor  I  neither  by  this  heavenly  light ;   I  might 
do  't  as  well  i'  the  dark. 

DCS.  Wouldst  thou  do  such  a  deed  for  all  the  world  ? 

Emil.  The  world  's  a  huge  thing :  it  is  a  great  price 
For  a  small  vice. 

Des.  In  troth,  I  think  thou  wouldst  not. 

Emil.  In  troth,  I  think  I  should  ;  and  undo  't  when  I  71 
had  done.  Marry,  I  would  not  do  such  a  thing 
for  a  joint-ring,  nor  for  measures  of  lawn,  nor 
for  gowns,  petticoats,  nor  caps,  nor  any  petty 
exhibition ;  but,  for  the  whole  world, — why, 
who  would  not  make  her  husband  a  cuckold  to 
make  him  a  monarch  ?  I  should  venture  purga- 
tory for  't. 

Des.  Beshrew  me,  if  I  would  do  such  a  wrong 

For  the  whole  world.  80 

Emil.  Why,  the  wrong  is  but  a  wrong  i'  the  world ; 
and  having  the  world  for  your  labour,  'tis  a 
wrong  in  your  own  world,  and  you  might 
quickly  make  it  right. 

Des.  I  do  not  think  there  is  any  such  woman. 

Emil.  Yes,  a  dozen ;  and  as  many  to  the  vantage  as 
would  store  the  world  they  played  for. 
But  I  do  think  it  is  their  husbands'  faults 
If  wives  do  fall :  say  that  they  slack  their  duties 
And  pour  our  treasures  into  foreign  laps,  90 

Or  else  break  out  in  peevish  jealousies, 
Throwing  restraint  upon  us,  or  say  they  strike  us, 
Or  scant  our  former  having  in  despite, 
Why,  we  have  galls,  and  though  we  have  some  grace, 
Yet  have  we  some  revenge.     Let  husbands  know 
Their  wives  have  sense  like  them :  they  see  and  smell 

126 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

And  have  their  palates  both  for  sweet  and  sour, 
As  husbands  have.     What  is  it  that  they  do 
When  they  change  us  for  others  ?     Is  it  sport  ? 
I  think  it  is :  and  doth  affection  breed  it  ? 
I  think  it  doth :   is  't  frailty  that  thus  errs  ?  100 

It  is  so  too :   and  have  not  we  affections, 
Desires  for  sport,  and  frailty,  as  men  have? 
Then  let  them  use  us  well :   else  let  them  know, 
The  ills  we  do,  their  ills  instruct  us  so. 
Des.  Good  night,  good  night :  heaven  me  such  uses  send, 
Not  to  pick  bad  from  bad,  but  by  bad  mend ! 

[Exeunt. 

ACT  FIFTH. 
Scene  I. 

Cyprus.     A  street. 
Enter  logo  and  Roderigo. 

logo.  Here,  stand  behind  this  bulk ;  straight  will  he  come : 
Wear  thy  good  rapier  bare,  and  put  it  home : 
Quick,  quick ;    fear  nothing ;   I  '11  be  at  thy  elbow  : 
It  makes  us,  or  it  mars  us ;   think  on  that, 
And  fix  most  firm  thy  resolution. 

Rod.  Be  near  at  hand ;   I  may  miscarry  in  't. 

logo.  Here,  at  thy  hand :  be  bold,  and  take  thy  stand. 

[Retires. 

Rod.  I  have  no  great  devotion  to  the  deed ; 

And  yet  he  hath  given  me  satisfying  reasons : 

'Tis  but  a  man  gone.     Forth,  my  sword  :  he  dies.  10 

lago.  I  have  rubb'd  this  young  quat  almost  to  the  sense, 
And  he  grows  angry.     Now,  whether  he  kill  Cassio, 
Or  Cassio  him,  or  each  do  kill  the  other, 
127 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Every  way  makes  my  gain  :  live  Roderigo, 

He  calls  me  to  a  restitution  large 

Of  gold  and  jewels  that  I  bobb'd  from  him, 

As  gifts  to  Desdemona : 

It  must  not  be :  if  Cassio  do  remain, 

He  hath  a  daily  beauty  in  his  life 

That  makes  me  ugly  ;  and  besides,  the  Moor  20 

May  unfold  me  to  him  ;  there  stand  I  in  much  peril : 

No,  he  must  die.     Be  't  so.     I  hear  him  coming. 

Enter  Cassio. 

Rod.  I  know  his  gait ;  'tis  he.     Villain,  thou  diest ! 

[Makes  a  pass  at  Cassio. 
Cas.  That  thrust  had  been  mine  enemy  indeed, 

But  that  my  coat  is  better  than  thou  know'st : 
I  will  make  proof  of  thine. 

[Draws,  and  wounds  Roderigo. 
Rod.  O,  I  am  slain  ! 

[logo  from  behind  wounds  Cassio  in  the  leg,  and  exit. 
Cas.  I  am  maim'd  for  ever.    Help,  ho !  murder !  murder ! 

[Falls. 

Enter  Othello. 

Oth.  The  voice  of  Cassio :   lago  keeps  his  word. 

Rod.  O,  villain  that  I  am  ! 

Oth.  It  is  even  so. 

Cats.  O,  help,  ho !    light !  a  surgeon  !  30 

Oth.  'Tis  he.     O  brave  lago,  honest  and  just, 

That  hast  such  noble  sense  of  thy  friend's  wrong ! 
Thou  teachest  me.     Minion,  your  dear  lies  dead, 
And  your  unblest  fate  hies  :  strumpet,  I  corns ! 
Forth  of  my  heart  those  charms,  thine  eyes,  are  blotted  : 
Thy  bed  lust-stain 'd  shall  with  lust's  blood  be  spotted. 

[Exit. 

128 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Enter  Lodoi'ico  and  Gratiano. 

Ca-s.  What,  ho !  no  watch  ?  no  passage  ?  murder !  murder ! 

Gra.  'Tis  some  mischance;  the  cry  is  very  direful. 

Cas.  O,  help ! 

Lod.  Hark!  40 

Rod.  O  wretched  villain. 

Lod.  Two  or  three  groan  :  it  is  a  heavy  night : 

These  may  be  counterfeits :  let 's  think  't  unsafe 
To  come  into  the  cry  without  more  help. 

Rod.  Nobody  come  ?  then  shall  I  bleed  to  death. 

Lod.  Hark! 

Re-enter  logo,  zvith  a  light. 

Gra.  Here's  one  comes  in  his  shirt,  with  light  and  weapons. 

logo.  Who's  there?  whose  noise  is  this  that  cries  on  murder  ? 

Lod.  We  do  not  know. 

logo.  Did  not  you  hear  a  cry  ?  49 

Cas.  Here,  here!   for  heaven's  sake,  help  me! 

logo.  What 's  the  matter  ? 

Gra.  This  is  Othello's  ancient,  as  I  take  it. 

Lod.  The  same  indeed ;   a  very  valiant  fellow. 

logo.  What  are  you  here  that  cry  so  grievously? 

Cas.  lago?     O,  I  am  spoil'd,  undone  by  villains! 

Give  me  some  help. 

logo.  O  me,  lieutenant !  what  villains  have  done  this  ? 
Cas.  I  think  that  one  of  them  is  here  about, 

And  cannot  make  away. 
lago.  O  treacherous  villains? 

What  are  you  there  ?  come  in  and  give  some  help. 

[To  Lodovico  and  Gratiano. 

Rod.  O,  help  me  here !  60 

Cas.  That 's  one  of  them. 

129 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

logo.  O  murderous  slave !     O  villain  ! 

[Stabs  Roderigo. 

Rod.  O  damn'd  lago!   O  inhuman  dog! 
logo.  Kill  men  i'  the  dark !  Where  be  these  bloody  thieves  ? 

How  silent  is  this  town !     Ho !  murder !  murder ! 

What  may  you  be  ?  are  you  of  good  or  evil  ? 
Lod.  As  you  shall  prove  us,  praise  us. 
lago.  Signior  Lodovico? 
Lod.  He,  sir. 

lago.  I  cry  you  mercy.     Here  's  Cassio  hurt  by  villains. 
Gra.  Cassio!  70 

la  go.  How  is  't,  brother  ? 
Cos.  My  leg  is  cut  in  two. 
lago.  Marry,  heaven  forbid! 

Light,  gentlemen :   I  '11  bind  it  with  my  shirt. 

Enter  Bianco. 

Bian.  What  is  the  matter,  ho?  who  is  't  that  cried? 

lago.  Who  is  't  that  cried ! 

Bian.  O   my   dear   Cassio!    my   sweet    Cassio!     O 

Cassio,  Cassio,  Cassio! 
lago.  O  notable  strumpet !     Cassio,  may  you  suspect 

Who  they  should  be  that  have  thus  mangled  you  ? 
Cos.  No.  80 

Gra.  I  am  sorry  to  find  you  thus :  I  have  been  to  seek  you. 
lago.  Lend  me  a  garter.     So.     O,  for  a  chair, 

To  bear  him  easily  hence ! 

Bian.  Alas,  he  faints !   O  Cassio,  Cassio,  Cassio ! 
lago.  Gentlemen  all,  I  do  suspect  this  trash 

To  be  a  party  in  this  injury. 

Patience  awhile,  good  Cassio.     Come,  come; 

Lend  me  a  light.     Know  we  this  face  or  no? 

130 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Alas,  my  friend  and  my  dear  countryman 

Roderigo?  no: — yes,  sure:   O  heaven!   Roderigo. 
Gra.  What,  of  Venice?  91 

logo.  Even  he,  sir :  did  you  know  him  ? 
Gra.  Know  him!   ay. 

logo.  Signior  Gratiano  ?     I  cry  you  gentle  pardon ; 

These  bloody  accidents  must  excuse  my  manners, 

That  so  neglected  you. 

Gra.  I  am  glad  to  see  you. 

logo.  How  do  you,  Cassio?     O,  a  chair,  a  chair? 
Gra.  Roderigo! 

la  go.  He,  he,  'tis  he.     [A  chair  brought  in.]     O,  that's 
well  said ;  the  chair : 

Some  good  man  bear  him  carefully  from  hence ; 

I  '11  fetch  the  general's  surgeon.     [To  Bianco]     For 
you,  mistress,  100 

Save  you  your  labour.    He  that  lies  slain  here,  Cassio, 

Was  my  dear  friend :  what  malice  was  between  you  ? 
Cas.  None  in  the  world ;  nor  do  I  know  the  man. 
I  ago.   [To  Bian.]   What,  look  you  pale?  O,  bear  him  out 
o'  the  air.        [Cassio  and  Roderigo  are  borne  off. 

Stay  you,   good  gentlemen.     Look  you  pale,   mis- 
tress ? 

Do  you  perceive  the  gastness  of  her  eye? 

Nay,  if  you  stare,  we  shall  hear  more  anon. 

Behold  her  well ;  I  pray  you,  look  upon  her : 

Do  you  see,  gentlemen  ?  nay,  guiltiness  will  speak, 

Though  tongues  were  out  of  use.  no 

Enter  Emilia. 

Emil.  'Las,  what 's  the  matter  ?   what 's  the  matter,  hus- 
band? 
logo.  Cassio  hath  here  been  set  on  in  the  dark 

131 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

By  Roderigo,  and  fellows  that  are  'scaped : 

He  's  almost  slain,  and  Roderigo  dead. 
EmiL  Alas,  good  gentleman !   alas,  good  Cassio ! 
logo.  This  is  the  fruit  of  whoring.     Prithee,  Emilia, 

Go  know  of  Cassio  where  he  supp'd  to-night. 

What,  do  you  shake  at  that  ? 

Bian.  He  supp'd  at  my  house ;  but  I  therefore  shake  not. 
I  ago.  O,  did  he  so?   I  charge  you,  go  with  me.  120 

EmiL  Fie,  fie  upon  thee,  strumpet ! 
Bian.  I  am  no  strumpet ;  but  of  life  as  honest 

As  you  that  thus  abuse  me. 

Etml.  As  I !  foh  !  fie  upon  thee ! 

logo.  Kind  gentlemen,  let 's  go  see  poor  Cassio  dress'd. 

Come,  mistress,  you  must  tell  's  another  tale. 

Emilia,  run  you  to  the  citadel, 

And  tell  my  lord  and  lady  what  hath  happ'd ! 

Will  you  go  on  ?  I  pray.   [Aside]   This  is  the  night 

That  either  makes  me  or  fordoes  me  quite.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II. 

A  bedchamber  in  the  castle:  Desdemona  in  bed 
asleep;   a  light  burning. 

Enter  Othello. 

Oth.  It  is  the  cause,  it  is  the  cause,  my  soul : 

Let  me  not  name  it  to  you,  you  chaste  stars ! 
It  is  the  cause.     Yet  I  '11  not  shed  her  blood, 
Nor  scar  that  whiter  skin  of  hers  than  snow 
And  smooth  as  monumental  alabaster. 
Yet  she  must  die,  else  she  '11  betray  more  men. 
Put  out  the  light,  and  then  put  out  the  light : 
If  I  quench  thee,  thou  flaming  minister, 

132 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

I  can  again  thy  former  light  restore, 

Should  I  repent  me :  but  once  put  out  thy  light,      10 

Thou  cunning' st  pattern  of  excelling  nature, 

I  know  not  where  is  that  Promethean  heat 

That  can  thy  light  relume.     When  I  have  pluck'd 

the  rose, 

I  cannot  give  it  vital  growth  again, 
It  must  needs  wither :   I  '11  smell  it  on  the  tree. 

[Kissing  her. 

Ah,  balmy  breath,  that  dost  almost  persuade 
Justice  to  break  her  sword !     One  more,  one  more : 
Be  thus  when  thou  art  dead,  and  I  will  kill  thee, 
And  love  thee  after :  one  more,  and  this  the  last : 
So  sweet  was  ne'er  so  fatal.     I  must  weep,  20 

But  they  are  cruel  tears  :  this  sorrow  's  heavenly ; 
It  strikes  where  it  doth  love.     She  wakes. 

Des.  Who  's  there  ?  Othello  ? 

Oth.  Ay,  Desdemona. 

Des.  Will  you  come  to  bed,  my  lord? 

Oth.  Have  you  pray'd  to-night,  Desdemona? 

DCS.  Ay,  my  lord. 

Oth.  If  you  bethink  yourself  of  any  crime 
Unreconciled  as  yet  to  heaven  and  grace, 
Solicit  for  it  straight. 

Des.  Alas,  my  lord,  what  may  you  mean  by  that  ? 

Oth.  Well,  do  it,  and  be  brief ;   I  will  walk  by  :  30 

I  would  not  kill  thy  unprepared  spirit ; 
No  ;  heaven  forfend !     I  would  not  kill  thy  soul. 

Des.  Talk  you  of  killing  ? 

Oth.  Ay,  I  do. 

Des.  Then  heaven  have  mercy  on  me ! 

Oth.  Amen,  with  all  my  heart ! 

133 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Des.  If  you  say  so,  I  hope  you  will  not  kill  me. 

Oth.  Hum! 

DCS.  And  yet  I  fear  you ;  for  you  are  fatal  then 

When  your  eyes  roll  so :  why  I  should  fear  I  know  not, 
Since  guiltiness  I  know  not ;  but  yet  I  feel  I  fear. 

Oth.  Think  on  thy  sins. 

Des.  They  are  loves  I  bear  to  you.     40 

Oth.  Ay,  and  for  that  thou  diest. 

DCS.  That  death  's  unnatural  that  kills  for  loving. 
Alas,  why  gnaw  you  so  your  nether  lip  ? 
Some  bloody  passion  shakes  your  very  frame: 
These  are  portents  ;  but  yet  I  hope,  I  hope, 
They  do  not  point  on  me. 

Oth.  Peace,  and  be  still ! 

Des.  I  will  so.     What 's  the  matter? 

Oth.  That  handkerchief  which  I  so  loved  and  gave  thee 
Thou  gavest  to  Cassio. 

Des.  Xo,  by  my  life  and  soul !       49 

Send  for  the  man,  and  ask  him. 

Oth.  Sweet  soul,  take  heed, 

Take  heed  of  perjury;  thou  art  on  thy  death-bed. 

Des.  Ay,  but  not  yet  to  die. 

Oth.  Yes,  presently : 

Therefore  confess  thee  freely  of  thy  sin ; 
For  to  deny  each  article  with  oath 
Cannot  remove  nor  choke  the  strong  conception 
That  I  do  groan  withal.     Thou  art  to  die. 

Des.  Then  Lord  have  mercy  on  me ! 

Oth.  I  say,  amen. 

Des.  And  have  you  mercy  too !     I  never  did 
Offend  you  in  my  life ;  never  loved  Cassio 
But  with  such  general  warranty  of  heaven  6o% 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

As  I  might  love :  I  never  gave  him  token. 
Oth.  By  heaven,  I  saw  my  handkerchief  in  's  hand. 

0  perjured  woman!   thou  dost  stone  my  heart, 
And  makest  me  call  what  I  intend  to  do 

A  murder,  which  I  thought  a  sacrifice : 

1  saw  the  handkerchief. 

Des.  He  found  it  then ; 

I  never  gave  it  him :   send  for  him  hither ; 

Let  him  confess  a  truth. 

Oth.  He  hath  confess'd. 

Des.  What,  my  lord? 
Oth.  That  he  hath  used  thee. 
Des.  How?   unlawfully? 

Oth.  Ay.  70 

DCS.  He  will  not  say  so. 
Oth.  No,  his  mouth  is  stopp'd; 

Honest  lago  hath  ta'en  order  for  't. 
Des.  O,  my  fear  interprets !  what,  is  he  dead  ? 
Oth.  Had  all  his  hairs  been  lives,  my  great  revenge 

Had  stomach  for  them  all. 
Des.  Alas,  he  is  betray 'd,  and  I  undone ! 
Oth.  Out,  strumpet !  weep'st  thou  for  him  to  my  face? 
Des.  O,  banish  me,  my  lord,  but  kill  me  not ! 
Oth.  Down,  strumpet ! 

Des.  Kill  me  to-morrow  ;   let  me  live  to-night !  80 

Oth.  Nay,  if  you  strive, — 
Des.  But  half  an  hour! 

Oth.  Being  done,  there  is  no  pause. 

Des.  But  while  I  say  one  prayer ! 

Oth.  It  is  too  late.     [He  stifles  her. 

Emit.   [Within]   My  lord,  my  lord!   what,  ho!   my  lord, 
my  lord! 

135 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Oth.  What  noise  is  this  ?     Not  dead  ?  not  yet  quite  dead  ? 

I  that  am  cruel  am  yet  merciful; 

I  would  not  have  thee  linger  in  thy  pain : 

So,  so. 

Emil.   [Within]   What,  ho!  my  lord,  my  lord ! 
Oth.  Who's  there? 

Emil.    [Within]   O,  good  my  lord,  I  would  speak  a  word 
with  you !  90 

Oth.  Yes  :   'tis  Emilia.     By  and  by.     She  's  dead. 

'Tis  like  she  comes  to  speak  of  Cassio's  death. 

The  noise  was  here.     Ha !  no  more  moving  ? 

Still  as  the  grave.     Shall  she  come  in  ?  were  't  good  ? 

I  think  she  stirs  again.     No.     What's  best  to  do? 

If  she  come  in,  she  '11  sure  speak  to  my  wife : 

My  wife!  my  wife!  what  wife?     I  have  no  wife. 

O,  insupportable!     O  heavy  hour! 

Methinks  it  should  be  now  a  huge  eclipse 

Of  sun  and  moon,  and  that  the  affrighted  globe  100 

Should  yawn  at  alteration. 
Emil.  [  Within ]   I  do  beseech  you 

That  I  may  speak  with  you,  O,  good  my  lord ! 
Oth.  I  had  forgot  thee :  O,  come  in,  Emilia. 

Soft ;  by  and  by.     Let  me  the  curtains  draw. 

Where  art  thou?  [Unlocks  the  door. 

Enter  Emilia. 

What 's  the  matter  with  thee  now  ? 
Emil.  O,  my  good  lord,  yonder  's  foul  murders  done ! 
Oth.  What,  now? 
Emil.  But  now,  my  lord. 
Oth.  It  is  the  very  error  of  the  moon ; 

She  comes  more  nearer  earth  than  she  was  wont 

136 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

And  makes  men  mad.  in 

Emit.  Cassio,  my  lord,  hath  kill'd  a  young  Venetian 

Call'd  Roderigo. 
Oth.  Roderigo  kill'd ! 

And  Cassio  kill'd! 

Emil.  No,  Cassio  is  not  kill'd. 

Oth.  Not  Cassio  kill'd !   then  murder  's  out  of  tune, 

And  sweet  revenge  grows  harsh. 
DCS.  O,  falsely,  falsely  murder'd! 

Emil.  Alas,  what  cry  is  that? 

Oth.  That!   what? 
Emil.  Out,  and  alas !   that  was  my  lady's  voice. 

Help!  help,  ho!  help!     O  lady,  speak  again !        120 

Sweet  Desdemona!    O  sweet  mistress,  speak! 
Des.  A  guiltless  death  I  die. 
Emil.  O,  who  hath  done  this  deed  ? 
Des.  Nobody ;   I  myself.     Farewell : 

Commend  me  to  my  kind  lord :   O,  farewell !      [Dies. 
Oth.  Why,  how  should  she  be  murder'd? 
Emil.  Alas,  who  knows? 

Oth.  You  heard  her  say  herself,  It  was  not  I. 
Emil.  She  said  so :   I  must  needs  report  the  truth. 
Oth.  She  's  like  a  liar  gone  to  burning  hell : 

'Twas  I  that  kill'd  her. 
Emil.  O,  the  more  angel  she,         130 

And  you  the  blacker  devil ! 
Oth.  She  turn'd  to  folly,  and  she  was  a  whore. 
Emil.  Thou  dost  belie  her,  and  thou  art  a  devil. 
Oth.  She  was  false  as  water. 
Emil.  Thou  art  rash  as  fire,  to  say 

That  she  was  false :  O,  she  was  heavenly  true ! 
Oth.  Cassio  did  top  her ;  ask  thy  husband  else. 

137 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

O,  I  were  damn'd  beneath  all  depth  in  hell, 

But  that  I  did  proceed  upon  just  grounds 

To  this  extremity.     Thy  husband  knew  it  all. 
Emit.  My  husband !  140 

Otli.  Thy  husband. 
Emil.  That  she  was  false  to  wedlock? 
Oth.  Ay,  with  Cassio.     Nay,  had  she  been  true, 

If  heaven  would  make  me  such  another  world 

Of  one  entire  and  perfect  chrysolite, 

I  'Id  not  have  sold  her  for  it. 
Emil.  My  husband! 
Oth.  Ay,  'twas  he  that  told  me  first : 

An  honest  man  he  is,  and  hates  the  slime 

That  sticks  on  filthy  deeds. 

Emil.  My  husband !  149 

Oth.  What  needs  this  iteration,  woman  ?  I  say  thy  husband. 
Emil.  O  mistress,  villany  hath  made  mocks  with  love ! 

My  husband  say  that  she  was  false ! 
Oth.  He,  woman ; 

I  say  thy  husband:   dost  understand  the  word? 

My  friend,  thy  husband,  honest,  honest  lago. 
Emil.  If  he  say  so,  may  his  pernicious  soul 

Rot  half  a  grain  a  day !  he  lies  to  the  heart : 

She  was  too  fond  of  her  most  filthy  bargain. 

Oth.  Ha! 

Emil.  Do  thy  worst : 

This  deed  of  thine  is  no  more  worthy  heaven        160 

Than  thou  wast  worthy  her. 

Oth.  Peace,  you  were  best. 

Emil.  Thou  hast  not  half  that  power  to  do  me  harm 

As  I  have  to  be  hurt.     O  gull !     O  dolt ! 

As  ignorant  as  dirt !   thou  hast  done  a  deed — 

138 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

I  care  not  for  thy  sword ;   I  '11  make  thee  known, 
Though  I  lost  twenty  lives.     Help !   help,  ho !   help ! 
The  Moor  hath  kill'd  my  mistress !    Murder !  murder ! 

Enter  Montana,  Gratiano,  lago,  and  others. 

Mon.  What  is  the  matter  ?     How  now,  general ! 
Emil.  O,  are  you  come,  lago?  you  have  done  well, 

That  men  must  lay  their  murders  on  your  neck.     170 
Gra.  What  is  the  matter? 
Emil.  Disprove  this  villain,  if  thou  be' st  a  man : 

He  says  thou  told'st  him  that  his  wife  was  false : 

I  know  thou  didst  not,  thou  'rt  not  such  a  villain. 

Speak,  for  my  heart  is  full. 
lago.  I  told  him  what  I  thought,  and  told  no  more 

Than  what  he  found  himself  was  apt  and  true. 
Emil.  But  did  you  ever  tell  him  she  was  false  ? 
lago.  I  did. 
Emil.  You  told  a  lie,  an  odious,  damned  lie;  180 

Upon  my  soul,  a  lie,  a  wicked  lie ! 

She  false  with  Cassio !     Did  you  say  with  Cassio? 
lago.  With  Cassio,  mistress.     Go  to,  charm  your  tongue. 
Emil.  I  will  not  charm  my  tongue ;  I  am  bound  to  speak : 

My  mistress  here  lies  murder'd  in  her  bed, — 
All.  O  heavens  forfend ! 

Emil.  And  your  reports  have  set  the  murder  on. 
Oth.  Nay,  stare  not,  masters :  it  is  true  indeed. 
Gra.  'Tis  a  strange  truth. 
Mon.  O  monstrous  act ! 
Emil.  Villany,  villany,  villany!  190 

I  think  upon  't :   I  think :   I  smell 't :   O  villany ! 

I  thought  so  then :   I  '11  kill  myself  for  grief : 

O  villany,  villany ! 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

logo.  What,  are  you  mad  ?     I  charge  you,  get  you  home. 

Emit.  Good  gentlemen,  let  me  have  leave  to  speak : 
'Tis  proper  I  obey  him,  but  not  now. 
Perchance,  lago,  I  will  ne'er  go  home. 

Oth.Ol     O!     O!  [Falling  on  the  bed. 

Emil.  Nay,  lay  thee  down  and  roar ; 

For  thou  hast  kill'd  the  sweetest  innocent 
That  e'er  did  lift  up  eye. 

Oth.  [Rising]   O,  she  was  foul !  200 

I  scarce  did  know  you,  uncle :  there  lies  your  niece, 
Whose  breath  indeed  these  hands  have  newly  stopp'd : 
I  know  this  act  shows  horrible  and  grim. 

Gra.  Poor  Desdemona !     I  am  glad  thy  father  's  dead : 
Thy  match  was  mortal  to  him,  and  pure  grief 
Shore  his  old  thread  in  twain :  did  he  live  now, 
This  sight  would  make  him  do  a  desperate  turn, 
Yea,  curse  his  better  angel  from  his  side, 
And  fall  to  reprobation. 

Oth.  'Tis  pitiful ;  but  yet  lago  knows  210 

That  she  with  Cassio  hath  the  act  of  shame 
A  thousand  times  committed ;  Cassio  confess'd  it : 
And  she  did  gratify  his  amorous  works 
With  that  recognizance  and  pledge  of  love 
Which  I  first  gave  her ;   I  saw  it  in  his  hand : 
It  was  a  handkerchief,  an  antique  token 
My  father  gave  my  mother. 

Emit.  O  heaven  !     O  heavenly  powers ! 

lago.  'Zounds  !  hold  your  peace. 

Emil.  'Twill  out,  'twill  out.     I  peace ! 

No,  I  will  speak  as  liberal  as  the  north :  220 

Let  heaven  and  men  and  devils,  let  them  all, 
All,- all,  cry  shame  against  me,  yet  I  '11  speak. 
140 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

logo.  Be  wise,  and  get  you  home. 

Emil.  I  will  not. 

[I ago  offers  to  stab  Emilia. 
Gra.  Fie ! 

Your  sword  upon  a  woman ! 

Emil.  O  thou  dull  Moor !  that  handkerchief  thou  speak'st 
of 

I  found  by  fortune  and  did  give  my  husband ; 

For  often  with  a  solemn  earnestness, 

More  than  indeed  belong'd  to  such  a  trifle, 

He  begg'd  of  me  to  steal  it. 

logo.  Villanous  whore! 

Emil.  She  give  it  Cassio !   no,  alas,  I  found  it,  230 

And  I  did  give  't  my  husband. 
logo.  Filth,  thou  liest ! 

Emil.  By  heaven,  I  do  not,  I  do  not,  gentlemen. 

O  murderous  coxcomb !    what  should  such  a  fool 

Do  with  so  good  a  wife  ? 
Oth.  Are  there  no  stones  in  heaven 

But  what  serve  for  the  thunder  ?     Precious  villain  ! 
[He  runs  at  logo:  logo,  from  behind, 
stabs  Emilia,  and  exit. 

Gra.  The  woman  falls  ;  sure,  he  hath  kill'd  his  wife. 
Emil.  Ay,  ay :  O,  lay  me  by  my  mistress'  side. 
Gra.  He  's  gone,  but  his  wife  's  kill'd. 
Mon.  Tis  a  notorious  villain.     Take  you  this  weapon, 

Which  I  have  here  recover'd  from  the  Moor :         240 

Come,  guard  the  door  without ;   let  him  not  pass, 

But  kill  him  rather.     I  '11  after  that  same  villain, 

For  'tis  a  damned  slave. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Othello  and  Emilia. 
Oth.  I  am  not  valiant  neither, 

141 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO. 

But  every  puny  whipster  gets  my  sword. 

But  why  should  honour  outlive  honesty? 

Let  it  go  all. 
Emil.  What  did  thy  song  bode,  lady  ? 

Hark,  canst  thou  hear  me  ?     I  will  play  the  swan, 

And  die  in  music.  [Singing]  Willow,  willow,  willow. 

Moor,  she  was  chaste ;  she  loved  thee,  cruel  Moor ; 

So  come  my  soul  to  bliss,  as  I  speak  true ;  250 

So  speaking  as  I  think,  I  die,  I  die.  [Dies. 

Oth.  I  have  another  weapon  in  this  chamber ; 

It  is  a  sword  of  Spain,  the  ice-brook's  temper. — 

O,  here  it  is.     Uncle,  I  must  come  forth. 
Gra.   [Within]   If  thou  attempt  it,  it  will  cost  thee  dear: 

Thou  hast  no  weapon,  and  perforce  must  suffer. 
Oth.  Look  in  upon  me  then,  and  speak  with  me, 

Or,  naked  as  I  am,  I  will  assault  thee. 

Re-enter  Gratiano. 

Gra.  What  is  the  matter? 

Oth.  Behold,  I  have  a  weapon  ; 

A  better  never  did  itself  sustain  260 

Upon  a  soldier's  thigh :  I  have  seen  the  day 

That  with  this  little  arm  and  this  good  sword 

I  have  made  my  way  through  more  impediments 

Than  twenty  times  your  stop :  but,  O  vain  boast ! 

Who  can  control  his  fate  ?  'tis  not  so  now. 

Be  not  afraid,  though  you  do  see  me  weapon'd ; 

Here  is  my  journey's  end,  here  is  my  butt 

And  very  sea-mark  of  my  utmost  sail. 

Do  you  go  back  dismay'd  ?  'tis  a  lost  fear : 

Man  but  a  rush  against  Othello's  breast,  270 

And  he  retires.     Where  should  Othello  go? 

142 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

Now,  how  dost  thou  look  now  ?    O  ill-starr'd  wench ! 

Pale  as  thy  smock !   when  we  shall  meet  at  compt, 

This  look  of  thine  will  hurl  my  soul  from  heaven, 

And  fiends  will  snatch  at  it.    Cold,  cold,  my  girl ! 

Even  like  thy  chastity.    O  cursed  slave ! 

Whip  me,  ye  devils, 

From  the  possession  of  this  heavenly  sight ! 

Blow  me  about  in  winds  !  roast  me  in  sulphur ! 

Wash  me  in  steep-down  gulfs  of  liquid  fire !  280 

O  Desdemona !  Desdemona !  dead ! 

Oh!  Oh!  Oh! 

Enter  Lodovico,  Montana,  Cassio  carried  in  a  chair, 
and  Officers,  zvith  lago.,  prisoner. 

Lod.  Where  is  this  rash  and  most  unfortunate  man  ? 
Oth.  That 's  he  that  was  Othello :  here  I  am. 
Lod.  Where  is  that  viper  ?  bring  the  villain  forth. 
Oth.  I  look  down  towards  his  feet ;  but  that 's  a  fable. 

If  that  thou  be'st  a  devil,  I  cannot  kill  thee. 

[Wounds  lago. 

Lod.  Wrench  his  sword  from  him. 

lago.  1  bleed,  sir,  but  not  kill'd. 

Oth.  I  am  not  sorry  neither  :  I  'Id  have  thee  live ; 

For,  in  my  sense,  'tis  happiness  to  die.  290 

Lod.  O  thou  Othello,  that  wert  once  so  good, 

Fall'n  in  the  practice  of  a  damned  slave, 

What  shall  be  said  to  thee  ? 
Oth.  Why,  any  thing: 

An  honourable  murderer,  if  you  will ; 

For  nought  did  I  in  hate,  but  all  in  honour. 
Lod.  This  wretch  hath  part  confess'd  his  villany: 

Did  you  and  he  consent  in  Cassio's  death  ? 

143 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Oth.  Ay. 

Cas.  Dear  general,  I  never  gave  you  cause. 

Oth.  I  do  believe  it,  and  I  ask  your  pardon.  300 

Will  you,  I  pray,  demand  that  demi-devil 

Why  he  hath  thus  ensnared  my  soul  and  body  ? 
I  ago.  Demand  me  nothing ;   what  you  know,  you  know  : 

From  this  time  forth  I  never  will  speak  word. 
Lod.  What,  not  to  pray  ? 

Gra.  Torments  will  ope  your  lips. 

Oth.  Well,  thou  dost  best. 
Lod.  Sir,  you  shall  understand  what  hath  befall'n, 

Which,  as  I  think,  you  know  not.    Here  is  a  letter 

Found  in  the  pocket  of  the  slain  Roderigo, 

And  here  another :  the  one  of  them  imports  310 

The  death  of  Cassio  to  be  undertook 

By  Roderigo. 
Oth.  O  villain ! 

Cas.  Most  heathenish  and  most  gross ! 

Lod.  Now  here  's  another  discontented  paper, 

Found  in  his  pocket  too ;  and  this,  it  seems, 

Roderigo  meant  to  have  sent  this  damned  villain ; 

But  that,  belike,  lago  in  the  interim 

Came  in  and  satisfied  him. 
Oth.  O  the  pernicious  caitiff! 

How  came  you,  Cassio,  by  that  handkerchief 

That  was  my  wife's? 
Cas.  I  found  it  in  my  chamber :        320 

And  he  himself  confess'd  but  even  now 

That  there  he  dropp'd  it  for  a  special  purpose 

Which  wrought  to  his  desire. 

Oth.  O  fool !   fool !   fool ! 

Cas.  There  is  besides  in  Roderigo's  letter. 

144 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

How  he  upbraids  lago,  that  he  made  him 
Brave  me  upon  the  watch ;  whereon  it  came 
That  I  was  cast :  and  even  but  now  he  spake 
After  long  seeming  dead,  lago  hurt  him, 
lago  set  him  on. 

Lod.  You  must  forsake  this  room,  and  go  with  us  :      330 
Your  power  and  your  command  is  taken  off, 
And  Cassio  rules  in  Cyprus.    For  this  slave, 
If  there  be  any  cunning  cruelty 
That  can  torment  him  much  and  hold  him  long, 
It  shall  be  his.    You  shall  close  prisoner  rest, 
Till  that  the  nature  of  your  fault  be  known 
To  the  Venetian  state.    Come,  bring  away. 

Oth.  Soft  you ;  a  word  or  two  before  you  go. 

I  have  done  the  state  some  service,  and  they  know  't. 

No  more  of  that.    I  pray  you,  in  your  letters,          340 

When  you  shall  these  unlucky  deeds  relate, 

Speak  of  me  as  I  am  ;  nothing  extenuate, 

Nor  set  down  aught  in  malice:  then  must  you  speak 

Of  one  that  loved  not  wisely  but  too  well ; 

Of  one  not  easily  jealous,  but,  being  wrought, 

Perplex'd  in  the  extreme ;  of  one  whose  hand, 

Like  the  base  Indian,  threw  a  pearl  away 

Richer  than  all  his-  tribe  ;  of  one  whose  subdued  eyes, 

Albeit  unused  to  the  melting  mood, 

Drop  tears  as  fast  as  the  Arabian  trees  350 

Their  medicinal  gum.    Set  you  down  this  ; 

And  say  besides,  that  in  Aleppo  once, 

Where  a  malignant  and  a  turban'd  Turk 

Beat  a  Venetian  and  traduced  the  state, 

I  took  by  the  throat  the  circumcised  dog 

And  smote  him,  thus.  [Stabs  himself. 

MS 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Lod.  O  bloody  period ! 

Gra.  All  that 's  spoke  is  marr'd. 

0  th.  I  kiss'd  thee  ere  I  kill'd  thee :  no  way  but  this, 
Killing  myself,  to  die  upon  a  kiss. 

[Falls  on  the  bed,  and  dies. 

Cos.  This  did  I  fear,  but  thought  he  had  no  weapon ;  360 
For  he  was  great  of  heart. 

Lod.  [To  logo]  O  Spartan  dog, 

More  fell  than  anguish,  hunger,  or  the  sea ! 
Look  on  the  tragic  loading  of  this  bed ; 
This  is  thy  work :  the  object  poisons  sight ; 
Let  it  be  hid.    Gratiano,  keep  the  house, 
And  seize  upon  the  fortunes  of  the  Moor, 
For  they  succeed  on  you.    To  you,  lord  governor, 
Remains  the  censure  of  this  hellish  villain, 
The  time,  the  place,  the  torture  :  O,  enforce  it ! 
Myself  will  straight  aboard,  and  to  the  state          370 
This  heavy  act  with  heavy  heart  relate.        [Exeunt. 


14.6 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE 


Glossary. 


Abhor;  "  it  doth  a.  me,"  it  is 
abhorrent  to  me ;  IV.  ii.  162. 

About,  out ;  I.  ii.  46. 

Abuse,  deceive;  I.  iii. 401. 

Abused,  deceived;  I.  i.  1/4. 

Abuser,  corrupter ;  I.  ii.  78. 

Achieved,  won;  II.  i. 61. 

Acknoum  on 't,  confess  any 
knowledge  of  it;  III.  iii.  319. 

Act,  action,  working;  III.  iii. 
328. 

Action,  accusation  ;  I.  iii.  70. 

Addiction,  inclination;   II.  ii.  6. 

Addition,  honour;  III.  iv'.  194. 

Advantage;  "  in  the  best  a.," 
at  the  most  favourable  op- 
portunity ;  I.  iii  298. 

Advised,  careful ;  I.  ii.  55. 

Advocation,  advocacy;  III.  iv. 
123. 

Affined,  bound  by  any  tie ;  I.  i. 

39- 

AfKnity,    connexions;    III.  i.  49. 
Agnizc,  confess  with  pride;   I. 

iii.  232. 

Aim,  conjecture  ;  I.  iii.  6. 
All  in  all,  wholly,  altogether; 

IV.  i.  89. 
Allowance;  "and  your  a.."  and 

has  your  permission  ;  I.  i.  128. 
Allowed,  acknowledged;  I.  iii. 

224. 

All 's  one,  very  well ;  IV.  iii.  23. 
Almain,  German ;  II.  iii.  86. 
Ancient,  ensign  (Folio  i, 

"  Auntient ")  ;  I.  i.  33. 


Antliropophagi,  cannibals 
(Quartos.  "Anthropo- 
phagie";  Folio  i,  "  Antropo- 
phague ")  ;  I.  iii.  144.  For 
'  men  whose  lieads  do  grow 
beneath  their  shoulders.'  Cp. 
illustration. 


From  Kuchlein's  illustrations  of  the 
Tourney  held  at  Stuttgart,  1609. 

A  litres,  caverns;  I.  iii.  140. 
Apart,  aside ;  II.  iii.  391. 
Approve,  prove,  justify;  II.  iii. 

64. 

,  love,  adore ;  IV.  iii.  19. 

Approved,  proved  to  have  been 

involved;  II.  iii.  211. 
Apt,  natural ;  II.  i.  295. 
Arraigning,  accusing;  III.  iv. 

152.. 
Arrivance,  arrival  (Folios,"Ar- 

rivancy"  or  "Arrivancie")  ; 

II.  i.  42. 


147 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 


As,  as  if:  III.  iii.  77. 

Aspics,  venomous  snakes;  III. 

iii.  450. 
Assay,  a  test :  I.  iii.  18. 

,  try;  II.  i.  121. 

Assure   thee,  be  assured;    III. 

iii.  20. 

At,  on  ;  I.  ii.  42. 
Atone,  reconcile;  IV.  i. 236. 
Attach,  arrest;  I.  ii.  77. 
Attend,  await;  III.  iii.  281. 

Bauble,  fool  (used  contemptu- 
ously) ;  IV.  i.  137. 

Bear,  the  Constellation  so 
called ;  II.  i.  14. 

Bear  out,  get  the  better  of;  II. 
i.  19. 

Beer;  "  small  beer,"  small  ac- 
counts, trifles  ;  II.  i.  161. 

Be-iee'd,  placed  on  the  lee 
(Quarto  i,  "be  led");  I.  i. 
30. 

Beslirezv  me,  a  mild  assevera- 
tion; III.  iv.  150. 

Besort,  what  is  becoming;  I.  iii. 
239- 

Best;  "  were  b.,"  had  better ;  I. 
ii.  30. 

Bestow,  place;  III.  i.  56. 

Betimes,  early ;  I.  iii.  383. 

Bid  "  good  morrow,"  alluding 
to  the  custom  of  friends  bid- 
ding good-morrow  by  sere- 
nading a  newly  married 
couple  on  the  morning  after 
their  marriage;  III.  i.  2. 

Birdlime,  lime  to  catch  birds ; 
II.  i.  127. 

Black,  opposed  to  "  fair  "  ;  III. 
iii.  263. 


Blank,  the  white  mark  in  the 
centre  of  the  butt,  the  aim ; 

III.  iv.  128. 

Blazoning,  praising;  II.  i.  63. 
Blood,  anger,  passion ;    II.   iii. 

205. 
Bloum,  empty,  puffed  out ;  III. 

iii.  182.. 

Bobb'd,  got  cunningly ;  V.  i.  16. 
Boding,    foreboding,    ominous ; 

IV.  i.  22. 

Bootless,  profitless ;  I.  iii.  209. 

Brace,  state  of  defence  (prop- 
erly, armour  to  protect  the 
arm)  ;  I.  iii.  24. 

Brave,  defy;  V.  ii.326. 

Bravery,  bravado,  defiance;  I. 
i.  100. 

Bring  on  the  zi'ay,  accompany : 
III.  iv.  197. 

Bulk,  the  projecting  part  of  a 
shop  on  which  goods  were 
exposed  for  sale;  V.  i.  I. 

Butt,  goal,  limit ;  V.  ii.  267. 

By,  aside ;  V.  ii.  30. 

,  "  how  you  say  by,"  what 

say  you  to;  I.  iii.  17. 

By  and  by,  presently;  II.  iii. 
309- 

Cable;  "  give  him  c.,"  give  him 
scope  ;  I.  ii.  17. 

Caitiff,  thing,  wretch ;  a  term 
of  endearment :  IV.  i.  109. 

Collet,  a  low  woman ;  IV.  ii. 
121. 

Calm'd,  becalmed,  kept  from 
motion  :  I.  i.  30. 

Canakin,  little  can;  II.  iii.  71. 

Cannibals;  I.  iii.  143.  Cp.  il- 
lustration. 

Capable,  ample:  III.  iii.  459. 


148 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE 


Glossary 


From  a  rare  old  broadside  depicting 
the  habits  of  the  aboriginal  Mexicans. 

Carack,  large  ship,  galleon ;   I. 

ii.  50. 

Caroused,  drunk;  II.  iii.  55. 
Carve  for,  indulge    (Quarto   i. 

"  carve  forth  ")  ;  II.  iii.  173. 
Case,     matter      (Folios. 

"  cause  ")  ;  III.  iii.  4. 
Cast,  dismissed,  degraded  from 

office  ;  V.  ii.  327. 
Censure,  judgement ;  II.  iii.  193. 

— ,  opinion  ;  IV.  i.  273. 
Ccrtcs,  certainly ;  I.  i.  16. 
Cliair;  "  a  chair,  to  bear  him 

easily  hence  "  ;  V.  i.  82.     Cp. 

illustration. 


From  a  plate  in  Sandv's  Travels  (1621  >. 
depicting  a  sick  person  carried  to 
the  sulphur-baths  at  Pozzuoli,  near 
Naples. 

Challenge,  claim :   I.  iii.  188. 


Chambercrs.  effeminate  men ; 
III.  iii.  265. 

Chances,  events  ;  I.  iii.  134. 

Charm,  make  silent,  restrain; 
V.  ii.  183. 

Charmer,  enchantress,  sorcer- 
ess ;  III.  iv.  57. 

Chcrubin,  cherub;  IV.  ii.  62. 

Chidden,  chiding,  making  an 
incessant  noise  ;  II.  i.  12. 

Chide,  quarrel :  IV.  ii.  167. 

Chuck,  a  term  of  endearment ; 

III.  iv.  49. 
Circumscription,     restraint ;     I. 

ii.  27. 
Circumstance,    circumlocution ; 

I-  i-  13- 

— ,    appurtenances;    III.    iii. 

354- 
Circumstanced,    give    way     to 

circumstances ;  III.  iv.  201. 
Civil,  civilised;  IV.  i.  65. 
Clean,    entirely,    altogether;    I. 

iii.  366. 

Clime,  country;  III.  iii.  230. 
Clip,  embrace  ;  III.  iii.  464. 
Clog,  encumber  (Folios  i,  2,  3, 

"  encloggc  ")  :  II.  i.  70. 
Close,  secret ;  III.  iii.  123. 
Close  as  oak  =  "  close  as  the 

grain  of  oak";  III.  iii.  210. 
Clyster-pipes,    tubes    used    for 

injection;  II.  i.  179. 
Coat,  coat  of  mail ;  V.  i.  25. 
Cogging,    deceiving    by    lying ; 

IV.  ii.  132. 

C allied ,  blackened,  darkened ; 
II.  iii.  204. 

Coloquintida.  colocynth,  or  bit- 
ter apple ;  I.  iii.  355. 

Commoner,  harlot;  IV.  ii.  72. 


140 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 


Companions,  fellows  (used 
contemptuously)  ;  IV.  ii.  141. 

Compasses,  annual  circuits ; 
lll.iv.7i. 

Compliment  extern,  external 
show  :  I.  i.  63. 

Composition,  consistency ;  I. 
iii.  I. 

Compt,  reckoning,  day  of  reck- 
oning ;  V.  ii.  273. 

Conceit,  idea;  thought  (Quarto 
r,  "  counsell ")  ;  III.  iii.  115. 

Conceits,  conceives,  judges; 
III.  iii.  149. 

Condition,  temper,  disposition ; 
II.  i.  255- 

Confine,  limit ;  I.  ii.  27. 

Conjunctive,  closely  united 
(Quarto  i,  "  communica- 
tiue "  ;  Quarto  2,  "  conjec- 
tiue  ")  ;  I.  iii.  375. 

Conjured,  charmed  by  incanta- 
tions ;  I.  iii.  105. 

Conscionable,  conscientious; 
II.  i.  242. 

Consent  in,  plan  together;  V. 
ii.  297. 

Consequence,  that  which  fol- 
lows or  results  ;  II.  iii.  64. 

Conserved,  preserved  (Quarto 
i,  "  conserues  " ;  Quarto  2, 
"  concerue  ")  ;  III.  iv.  75. 

Consuls,  senators  (Theobald. 
"  Couns'lers  " ;  H  a  n  m  e  r, 
"  counsel")  ;  I.  ii.  43. 

Content,  joy;  II.  i.  185. 

,  satisfy,  reward ;  III.  i.  i. 

Content  you,  be  satisfied,  be 
easy;  I.  i.  41. 

Continuate,  continual,  uninter- 
rupted (Quarto  I,  "  conucn- 
icnt")  ;  III.  iv.  178. 


Contrived,  plotted,  deliberate ; 
I-ii.3- 

Conveniences,  comforts ;  II.  i. 
234- 

Convcrsc,  conversation;  III.  i. 
40. 

Cope,  meet ;  IV.  i.  87. 

Corrigible,  corrective;  I.  iii. 
329- 

Counsellor,  prater  (Theobald, 
"  censurer")  ;  II.  i.  165. 

C  o  u  n  t  c  r-caster,  accountant 
(used  contemptuously)  ;  I.  i. 
3i. 

Course,  proceeding  (Quarto  I, 
"  cause  ")  ;  II.  i.  275. 

,  run  (Quarto  i,  "  make  ")  ; 

in.iy.7i. 

Court  and  guard  of  safety, 
"  very  spot  and  guarding 
place  of  safety  "  (Theobald, 
"  court  of  guard  and  safe- 
ty") ;  II.  iii.  216. 

Court  of  guard,  the  main 
guardhouse ;  II.  i.  220. 

Courtship,  civility,  elegance  of 
manners  (Quarto  i,  "  courte- 
sies") ;  II.  i.  171. 

Coxcomb,  fool ;  V.  ii.  233. 

Cozening,  cheating ;  IV.  ii.  132. 

Crack,  breach  ;  II.  iii.  330. 

Creation,  nature  ;  II.  i.  64. 

Cries  on,  cries  out  (Folios  2,3, 
4,  "  cries  out  ")  ;  V.  i.  48. 

Critical,  censorious;  II.  i.  120. 

Crusadocs.  Portuguese  gold 
coins ;  so  called  from  the 
cross  on  them  (worth  be- 
tween six  and  seven  shil- 
lings) ;  III.  iv.  26.  Cp.  illus- 
tration. 


ISO 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE 


Glossary 


From  an  engraving  by  Fairho.t. 

Cry,   pack   of   hounds;    II.   iii. 

370. 
Cunning,   knowledge ;    III.    iii. 

49- 

Curled,  having  hair  formed  into 
ringlets,  hence  affected,  fop- 
pish ;  I.  ii.  68. 

Customer,  harlot;  IV.  i.  112. 

Daffct,  dost  put  off  (Collier, 
"  d  aff '  s  t" ;  Quartos, 
"  dofftst "  ;  Folio  i,"  dafts  ")  : 
IV.  ii.  175- 

Danger;  "  hurt  to  danger," 
dangerously  hurt,  wounded : 
II.  iii.  197. 

Darlings,  favourites ;  I.  ii.  68. 

Daws,  jack-daws ;  I.  i.  65. 

Dear,  deeply  felt ;  I.  iii.  260. 

Dearest,  most  zealous ;  I.  iii.  85. 

Debitor  and  creditor,  "  the  title 
of  certain  ancient  treatises  on 
book-keeping  here  used  as  a 
nick-name"  (Clarke);  I.  i. 

3i. 
Defeat,  destroy ;  IV.  ii.  160. 

,  disfigure  ;  I.  iii.  346. 

Defend,  forbid;  I.  iii.  267. 
Delations,  accusations;  III.  iii. 

123. 

Delighted,  delightful;  I.  iii.  290. 
Deliver,  say,  relate;  II.  iii.  217. 
Demand,  ask;  V.  ii. 301. 
Demerits,  merits ;  I.  ii.  22. 


Demonstrable,  "  made  d.," 
demonstrated,  revealed;  III. 
iv.  142. 

Denotement,   denoting;    II.   iii. 

323- 
Deputing,    substituting;    IV.   i. 

248. 

Designment,  design  ;  II.  i.  22. 
Desired;  "  well  d.,"  well  loved, 

a  favourite ;  II.  i.  206. 
Despite,     contempt,     aversion ; 

IV.  ii.  116. 
Determinate,    decisive ;    IV.   ii. 

232. 
Devesting,    divesting;     II.     iii. 

179- 

Diablo,  the  Devil ;  II.  iii.  161. 

Diet,  feed;  II.  i.  302. 

Dilate,  relate  in  detail,  at 
length;  I.  iii.  153. 

Directly,  in  a  direct  straightfor- 
ward way  ;  IV.  ii.  210. 

Discontented,  full  of  dissatis- 
faction ;  V.  ii.  314. 

Discourse  of  thought,  faculty  of 
thinking,  range  of  thought ; 
IV.  ii.  153- 

Dislikes,  displeases ;  II.  iii.  49. 

Displeasure;  "  your  d.,"  the 
disfavour  you  have  incurred ; 
III.  i.  45. 

Disports,  sports,  pastimes;  I. 
iii.  272. 

Dispose,  disposition  ;   I.  iii.  403. 

Disprove,  refute;  V.  ii.  172. 

Disputed  on,  argued,  investi- 
gated; I.  ii.  75. 

Distaste,  be  distasteful;  III.  iii. 

327- 

Division,  arrangement ;   I.  i.  23. 
Do,  act ;  I.  iii.  395. 
Dotage,  affection  for;  IV.  1.27. 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 


Double,  of  two-fold  influence ; 
I.  ii.  14. 

Double  set,  go  twice  round;  II. 
iii.  135- 

Doubt,  suspicion;  III.  iii.  188. 
— ,  fear;  III.  iii.  19. 

Dream,  expectation,  anticipa- 
tion; II.  iii.  64. 

Ecstacy,  swoon ;  IV.  i.  80. 
Elements,  a  pure  extract,   the 

quintessence ;  II.  iii.  59. 
Embay 'd,    land-locked;     II.    i. 

18. 
Encave,   hide,    conceal ;    IV.    i. 

82. 
Enchafed,  chafed,  angry;   II.  i. 

17- 

Engage,  pledge;  III.  iii.  462. 
Engines,  devices,  contrivances. 

(?)    instruments  of  torture; 

IV.  ii.  219. 

Engluts,  engulfs,  swallows  up; 
I.  iii.  57- 

Enshelter'd,  sheltered ;  II.  i.  18. 

Enstcep'd,  steeped,  lying  con- 
cealed under  water  (Quarto 
i,  "  enscerped  ")  ;  II.  i.  70. 

Entertainment,  re-engagement 
in  the  service ;  III.  iii.  250. 

Enwheel,  encompass,  surround ; 
II.i.87. 

Equinox,  counterpart;  II.  iii. 
129. 

Erring,  wandering ;  III.  iii.  227. 

Error,   deviation,    irregularity ; 

V.  ii.  109. 

Escape,     escapade,     wanton 

freak ;  I.  iii.  197. 
Essential,  real;  II.  i. 64. 
Estimation,    reputation ;    I.    iii. 

275- 


Eternal,  damned  (used  to  ex- 
press abhorrence)  ;  IV.  ii. 
130. 

Ever-fixed,  fixed  for  ever 
(Quartos,  "  ever-fired")  ;  II. 

1.  IS- 

Execute,  to  wreak  anger ;  II. 
iii.  228. 

Execution,  working;  III.  iii. 
466.  . 

Exercise,  religious  exercise ; 
III.iv.4i. 

Exhibition,  allowance;  I.  iii. 
238. 

Expert,  experienced;  II.  iii.  82. 

Expert  and  approved  alloiv- 
ance,  acknowledged  and 
proved  ability  ;  II.  i.  49. 

Exsufflicate,  inflated,  unsub- 
stantial;  (Quartos,  Folios  i, 

2,  3,  "  exuMicate  " ;   Folio  4. 
"  exsufdicatcd  ")  ;      III.      iii. 
182. 

Extern,  eternal ;  I.  i.  63. 

Extincted,  extinct  (Folios  3.4, 
"  extinct est "  ;  Rowe,  "  ex- 
tinguished") ;  II.  i.  81. 

Extravagant,  vagrant,  wander- 
ing; Li.  137. 

Facile,  easy ;  I.  iii.  23. 
Falls,  lets  fall ;  IV.  i.  248. 
Fantasy,  fancy;  III.  iii.  299. 
Fashion,  conventional  custom; 

II.  i.  208. 
Fast,  faithfully  devoted;  I.  iii. 

369- 
Fathom,  reach,   capacity;    I.   i. 

153- 

Favour,  countenance,  appear- 
ance ;  III.  iv.  125. 

Fearful,  full  of  fear;  I.  iii.  12. 


152 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE 


Glossary 


Fell,  cruel ;  V.  ii.  362. 

Filches,  pilfers,  steals ;  III.  iii. 

159- 

Filth,  used  contemptuously;  V. 
ii.  231. 

Fineless,  without  limit,  bound- 
less; III.  iii.  173. 

Fitclicu',  pole-cat  (used  con- 
temptuously) ;  IV.  i.  150. 

Fits,  befits:  Ill.iv.  150. 

Fleers,  sneers  ;  IV.  i.  83. 

Flood,  sea ;  I.  iii.  135. 

Flood-gate,  rushing,  impetu- 
ous ;  I.  iii.  56. 

Folly,  unchastity;  V.  ii.  132. 

Fond,  foolish  ;  I.  iii.  320. 

Fopped.  befooled,  duped :  IV.  ii. 

195- 
For,      because      (Folios, 

"when  ")  ;  I.  iii.  269. 
Forbear,  spare;  I.  ii.  10. 
Fordoes,  destroys ;  V.  i.  129. 
Forfend,  forbid ;  V.  ii.  32. 
Forgot;  "  are  thus  f.."  have  so 

forgotten  yourself ;  II.  iii.  188. 
Forms    and    visages,    external 

show,    outward    appearance ; 

1.  i.  50. 

Forth  of,  forth  from,  out  of 
(Folio  i,  "For  of";  Folios 

2,  3,  4.  "  For  off")  :  V.  i.  35. 
Fortitude,  strength;  I.  iii.  222. 
Fortune,   chance,   accident ;    V. 

ii.  226. 
Framed,   moulded,    formed ;   I. 

iii.  404. 
Fraught,   freight,   burden;   III. 

iii.  449. 
Free,  innocent,  free  from  guilt ; 

III.  iii.  255. 

,  liberal ;  I.  iii.  266. 

Frights,  terrifies;  II.  iii.  175. 


Prise,  a  kind  of  coarse  woollen 
stuff;  II.  i.  127. 

From,  contrary  to ;  I.  i.  132. 

Fruitful,  generous ;  II.  iii.  347. 

Full,  perfect ;  II.  i.  36. 

Function,  exercise  of  the  facul- 
ties;  II.  iii.  354. 

Fustian;  "discourse  f.,"  talk 
rubbish ;  II.  iii.  282. 

Galls,     rancour,     bitterness     of 

mind;  IV.  iii.  93. 
Garb,    fashion,    manner;    II.    i. 

314- 

Garner1 'd,  treasured ;  IV.  ii.  57. 

Cashless,  ghastliness  (Quar- 
tos i,  2.  "  ieastures" ',  Quar- 
to 3,  "jestures";  Quarto 
1687.  "  gestures  " ;  Knight, 
"ghastness")  ;  V.  i.  106. 

Gender,  kind,  sort :  I.  iii.  326. 

Generous,  noble;  III.  iii.  280. 

Give  arvay,  give  up ;  III.  iii.  28. 

Gcrvernmcnt,  self-control ;  III. 
iii.  256. 

Gradation,  order  of  promotion  ; 
I.  i.  37- 

Grange,  a  solitary  farm-house ; 
I.  i.  106. 

Green,  raw,  inexperienced;  II. 
i.  251. 

Grise,  step ;  I.  iii.  200. 

Gross  in  sense,  palpable  to  rea- 
son ;  I.  ii.  72. 

Guardage,  guardianship ;  I.  ii. 
70. 

Guards,  guardians  ("  alluding 
to  the  star  Arctophylax," 
Johnson)  ;  II.  i.  15. 

Guinea-hen,  a  term  of  con- 
tempt for  a  woman ;  I.  iii. 
317. 


153 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 


Gyve,  fetter,  ensnare ;  II.  i.  171. 

Habits,    appearances,    outward 

show ;  I.  iii.  108. 
Haggard,    an    untrained    wild 

hawk;  III.  iii.  260. 
Hales,  hauls,  draws:  IV.  i.  141. 
Haply,  perhaps;  II.  i.  279. 
Happ'd,     happened,     occurred ; 

V.  i.  127. 
Happiness,  good  luck ;  III.  iv. 

108. 
Happy;    "  in   h.   time."    at   the 

right  moment;  III.  i.  32. 
Hard   at   hand,   close   at   hand 

(Quartos,  "  hand  at  hand")  ; 

II.  i.  268. 

Hardness,  hardship;  I.  iii.  234. 

Hast-posthaste,  very  great 
haste ;  I.  ii.  37. 

Have  with  you,  I  '11  go  with 
you;  I.  ii.  53. 

Having,  allowance  (?)  "pin- 
money  " ;  IV.  iii.  92. 

Hearted,   seated   in  the  heart; 

III.  iii.  448. 
Heavy,  sad ;  V.  ii.  371. 

;    "  a    h.    night,"    a    thick 

cloudy  night ;  V.  i.  42. 
Heat,  urgency;  I.  ii.  40. 
Helm,  helmet ;  I.  iii.  273. 
Herself,  itself;  I.  iii.  96. 
Hie,  hasten ;  IV.  iii.  50. 
High  suppertime,  high  time  for 

supper;  IV.  ii.  245-6. 
Hint,  subject,  theme;  I.  iii.  142. 
Hip;   "have  on  the  h.,"  catch 

at  an  advantage    (a  term  in 

wrestling)  ;  II.  i.  314. 
Hold,   make   to   linger;    V.   ii. 

334- 
Home,  to  the  point ;  II.  i.  166. 


Honestly,  becoming;  IV.  i.  288. 
Honey,  sweetheart ;   II.  i.  206. 
Horologe,  clock;  II.  iii.  130. 
Housewife,  hussy ;  IV.  i.  95. 
Hungerly,    hungrily;     III.    iv. 

105. 
Hurt ;   "  to   be   h.,"    to   endure 

being  hurt ;  V.  ii.  163. 
Hydra,    the    fabulous    monster 

with  many  heads ;  II.  iii.  308. 

Ice-brook's  temper,  i.e.  a  sword 
tempered  in  the  frozen 
brook ;  alluding  to  the  an- 
cient Spanish  custom  of 
hardening  steel  by  plunging 
red-hot  in  the  rivulet  Salo 
near  Bilbilis;  V.  ii.  252. 

Idle,  barren ;  I.  iii.  140. 

Idleness,  unproductiveness, 
want  of  cultivation ;  I.  iii. 
328. 

Import,  importance ;  III.  iii. 
3l6. 

Importancy,  importance;  I.  iii. 
20. 

In,  on;  I.  i.  137. 

Inclining,  favourably  disposed; 
II.  iii.  346. 

Incontinent,  immediately;  IV. 
ii.  12. 

Incontinently,  immediately;  I. 
iii.  306. 

Index,  introduction,  prologue ; 

II.  i.  263. 

Indign,  unworthy ;  I.  iii.  274. 

Indues,  affects,  makes  sensi- 
tive; (Quarto  3,  "endures"; 
Johnson  conj.  "subdues"); 

III.  iv.  146. 

Ingener,  inventor  (of  praises)  ; 
II.  i.  65. 


154 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE 


Glossary 


Ingraft,  ingrafted;  II.  iii.  145. 

Inhibited,  prohibited,  forbid- 
den ;  I.  ii.  79. 

Injointed  them,  joined  them- 
selves ;  I.  iii.  35. 

Injuries ;  "  in  your  i.,"  while 
doing  injuries;  II.  i.  112. 

Inordinate,  immoderate;  II. 
iii.  311. 

Intendment,  intention;  IV.  ii. 
203. 

Intentively,  with  unbroken  at- 
tention (Folio  i,  "  instinc t iue- 
ly  " ;  Folios  2.  3.  4,  "  distinc- 
tively"; Gould  conj.  "  con- 
nectively  ")  ;  I.  iii.  155. 

Invention,  mental  activity;  IV. 
i.  195. 

Issues,  conclusions  ;  III.  iii.  219. 

Iteration,  repetition ;  V.  ii.  150. 

Janus,  the  two-headed  Roman 
God ;  I.  ii.  33. 

Jesses,  straps  of  leather  or  silk, 
with  which  hawks  were  tied 
by  the  leg  for  the  falconer 
to  hold  her  by;  III.  iii.  261. 
Cp.  illustration. 


From  an  engraving  of  the  year  1593. 


Joint-ring,  a  ring  with  joints 
in  it,  consisting  of  two 
halves ;  a  lover's  token ;  IV. 
iii.  73.  Cp.  illustration. 


From  a  woodcut  by  Fairholt. 

Jump,  exactly;   II.  iii.  392. 

,  agree ;  I.  iii.  5. 

Just,  exact;  I.  iii.  5. 
Justly,  truly  and  faithfully ;   I. 
iii.  124. 

Keep  up,  put  up,  do  not  draw ; 
I.  ii.  59- 

Knave,  servant ;  I.  i.  45. 

Knee-crooking,  fawning,  ob- 
sequious ;  I.  i.  45. 

Know  of,  learn  from,  find  out 
from;  V.  i.  117. 

Lack,  miss;  III.  iii.  318. 

Law-days,  court-days ;  III.  iii. 
140. 

Leagued,  connected  in  friend- 
ship (Quartos.  Folios'. 
"league")  ;  II.  iii.  218. 

Learn,  teach ;  I.  iii.  183. 

Learned,    intelligent ;    III.    iii. 

259- 

Lccts,  days  on  which  courts  are 
held ;  III.  iii.  140. 

Levels,  is  in  keeping,  is  suit- 
able ;  I.  iii.  240. 

Liberal,  free,  wanton ;  II.  i.  165. 


155 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 


Lies,  resides;  III.  iv.  2. 

Like,  equal ;  II.  i.  16. 

Lingered,  prolonged;  IV.  ii. 
228. 

List,  boundary ;  '*  patient  1.,"  the 
bounds  of  patience ;  IV.  i.  76. 

,  inclination  (Folios.  Quar- 
tos 2.  3,  "  leaue")  ;  II.  i.  105. 
— ,  listen  to.  hear ;  II.  i.  219. 

Living,  real,  valid ;  III.  iii.  409. 

Lost,  groundless,  vain ;  V.  ii. 
269. 

Lown,  lout,  stupid,  blockhead  ; 
II.  iii.  95. 

Magnifico,    a    title    given    to    a 

Venetian  grandee ;  I.  ii.  12. 
Maidhood,   maidenhood;     I.    i. 

173- 

Main,  sea,  ocean ;  II.  i.  3. 

Make  away,  get  away;  V.  i.  58. 

Makes,  does ;  I.  ii.  49. 

Mammering,  hesitating  (Fo- 
lios, Quartos  2.  3.  "  mam'- 
ring"',  Quarto  I.  "mutter- 
ing " !  Johnson,  "  mummer- 
ing  ")  '<  HI.  iii.  70. 

Man,  wield ;  V.  ii.  270. 

Manage,  set  on  foot ;    II.  iii.  215. 

Mandragora.  mandrake,  a  plant 
supposed  to  induce  sleep  ;  III. 
iii.  330. 

Mane,  crest ;  II.  i.  13. 

Manifest,  reveal ;  I.  ii.  32. 

Marble,  (?)  everlasting;  III. 
iii.  460. 

Mass;  "  by  the  mass,"  an  oath 
(Folios  i,  2,  3,  "Introth"; 
Folio  4,  "In  troth")  ;  II.  iii. 

384- 

Master,  captain;  II.  i.  211. 
May,  can ;  V.  i.  78. 


Mazzard,  head;  II.  iii.  155. 

Me;  "whip  me,"  whip  (me 
ethic  dative)  ;  I.  i.  49. 

Mean,  means ;  III.  i.  39. 

Meet,  seemly,  becoming ;  I.  i. 
146. 

Mere,  utter,  absolute ;  II.  ii.  3. 

Minion,  a  spoilt  darling ;  V.  i. 
33- 

Mischance,  misfortune ;  V.  i. 
38. 

Mock,  ridicule  ;  I.  ii.  69. 

Modern,  common-place ;  I.  iii. 
109. 

Moe,  more ;  IV.  iii.  57. 

Molestation,  disturbance ;  II.  i. 
16. 

Monstrous  (trisyllabic)  (Ca- 
pell,  "  monsterous  ")  ;  II.  iii. 
217. 

Moons,  months ;  I.  iii.  84. 

Moorship's  (formed  on  analo- 
gy of  worship ;  Quarto  I 
reads  "  Worship's  ")  ;  I.  i.  33. 

Moralcr,  moralizer ;  II.  iii.  301. 

Mortal,  deadly ;  II.  i.  72. 

,  fatal ;  V.  ii.  205. 

Mortise,  "  a  hole  made  in  tim- 
ber to  receive  the  tenon  of 
another  piece  of  timber ;  II. 
i.  9. 

Moth,  "  an  idle  eater " ;   I.   iii. 

257. 

Motion,  impulse,  emotion ;  I. 
iii.  95- 

,  natural  impulse;  I.  ii.  75. 

Mountebanks,  quacks :  I.  iii.  61. 

Mummy,  a  preparation  used 
for  magical — as  well  as  me- 
dicinal— purposes,  made  orig- 
inally from  mummies ;  III. 
iv.  74. 


150 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE 


Glossary 


Mutualities,  familiarities ;  II.  i. 

266. 
Mystery,  trade  craft ;  IV.  ii.  30. 

Naked,  unarmed ;  V.  ii.  258. 
Napkin,  handkerchief;   III.  iii. 

287. 

Native,  natural,  real ;  I.  i.  62. 
New,       fresh        (Quartos, 

"more")  ;  I.  iii.  205. 
Next,  nearest ;  I.  iii.  205. 
North,  north  wind ;  V.  ii.  220. 
Notorious,   notable,  egregious ; 

IV.  ii.  140. 
Nuptial,     wedding      (Quartos, 

"Nuptialls")  ;  II.  ii.  8. 

Obscure,  abstruse ;  II.  i.  263. 
Observancy,   homage;    III.    iv. 

149. 
Odd-even,  probably  the  interval 

between     twelve    o'clock     at 

night  and  one  o'clock  in  the 

morning;  I.  i.  124. 
Odds,  quarrel ;  II.  iii.  185. 
Off,  away;  V.  ii.  331. 
Off-capp'd,    doffed    their    caps, 

saluted        (Quartos,       "oft 

capt")  ;  I.  i.  10. 
Offends,    hurts,    pains ;    II.    iii. 

199. 
Office,       duty        (Quarto        i, 

"duty")  ;  III.  iv.  113. 
Officed,  having  a  special  func- 
tion ;  I.  iii.  271. 
Offices,  domestic  offices,  where 

food  and  drink  were  kept ;  II. 

ii.  9. 
Old,  time-honoured  system ;  I. 

i-  37- 

On,  at ;  II.  iii.  132. 
On 't,  of  it ;  II.  i.  30. 


Opinion,  public  opinion,   repu- 
tation ;  II.  iii.  196. 
Opposite,  opposed ;  I.  ii.  67. 
Other,  otherwise ;  IV.  ii.  13. 
Ottomites,     Ottomans;     I.     iii. 

33- 
Out-tongue,  bear   down ;    I.   ii. 

19. 
Overt;  "  o.  test,"  open  proofs; 

I.  iii.   107. 
Owe,  own ;  I.  i.  66. 
Owedst,  didst  own ;  III.  iii.  333. 

Paddle,  play,  toy;  II.  i.  259. 
Pageant,  show,  pretence ;  I.  iii. 

18. 
Paragons,  excels,  surpasses;  II. 

i.  62. 
Parcels,  parts,  portions ;   I.  iii. 

154- 
Partially,    with    undue    favour 

(Qq.,   "partiality");    II.   iii. 

218. 

Parts,  gifts;  III.  iii.  264. 
Passage,  people  passing;   V.   i. 

37- 

Passing,  surpassingly;  I.  iii. 
1 60. 

Patent,  privilege;  IV.  i.  203. 

Patience  (trisyllabic)  ;  II.  iii. 
376. 

Peculiar,  personal ;   III.  iii.  79. 

Peevish,  childish,  silly;  II.  iii. 
185. 

Pegs,  "  the  pins  of  an  instru- 
ment on  which  the  strings  are 
fastened  "  ;  II.  i.  202. 

Perdurable,  durable,  lasting ;  I. 

iii.  343- 

Period,  ending;  V.  ii.  357. 
Pestilence,  poison:   II.  iii.  362. 
Pierced,  penetrated ;  I.  iii.  219. 


157 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 


Pioners,  pioneers,  the  common- 
est soldiers,  employed  for 
rough,  hard  work,  such  as 
levelling  roads,  forming 
mines,  etc, ;  III.  iii.  346. 

Pleasance,  pleasure  (Quartos, 
"pleasure");  II.  iii.  293. 

Pliant,  convenient ;  I.  iii.  151. 

Plume  up,  make  to  triumph 
(Quarto  i,  "make  up");  I. 
iii.  398. 

Poise,  weight ;  III.  iii.  82. 

Pontic  sea,  Euxine  or  Black 
Sea;  III.  iii.  453. 

Parlance,  conduct ;  I.  iii.  139. 

Position,  positive  assertion ; 
III.  iii.  234. 

Post-post-haste,  very  great 
haste ;  I.  iii.  46. 

Pottle-deep,  to  the  bottom  of 
the  tankard,  a  measure  of 
two  quarts ;  II.  iii.  56. 

Practice,  plotting ;  III.  iv.  141. 

Precious,  used  ironically 
(Quartos  2,  3,  "  perni- 
tious  ")  ;  V.  ii.  235. 

Prefer,  promote ;  II.  i.  286. 
— ,  show,  present :  I.  iii.  109. 

Preferment,  promotion;  I.  i. 
36. 

Pregnant,  probable;   II.  i.  239. 

Presently,  immediately ;  III.  i. 
38- 

Prick 'd,  incited,  spurred;  III. 
iii.  412. 

Probal,  probable,  reasonable ; 
II.  iii.  344. 

Probation,  proof;  III.  iii.  365. 

Profane,  coarse,  irreverent ;  II. 
i.  165. 

Profit,  profitable  lesson ;  III.  iii. 
379- 


Proof;  "  make  p.,"  test,  make 
trial ;  V.  i.  26. 

Proper,  own;  I.  iii.  69. 

,  handsome ;  I.  iii.  397. 

Propontic,  the  Sea  of  Mar- 
mora ;  III.  iii.  456. 

Propose,  speak ;  I.  i.  25. 

Propriety;  "  from  her  p.,"  out 
of  herself;  II.  iii.  176. 

Prosperity,  success ;  II.  i.  287. 

Prosperous,  propitious ;  I.  iii. 
245- 

Puddled,  muddled;  III.  iv.  143. 

Purse,  wrinkle,  frown ;  III.  iii. 

113- 

Purse  .  .  .  strings;  I.  i.  2,  3. 
Cp.  illustration. 


From  the  leaden  seal  of  the  Confra- 
ternity of  Purse-makers  (Boursiers) 
of  Paris. 

Put  on,  incite,  instigate ;  II.  iii. 
357- 

Qualification,  appeasement ;  II. 
i.  281. 

Qualified,  diluted;  II.  iii.  41. 

Quality;  "  very  q.,"  i.e,  very  na- 
ture ;  I.  iii.  252. 

Quarter;  "  in  q.,"  in  peace, 
friendship;  II.  iii.  180. 


158 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE 


Glossary 


Quat,  pistule,  pimple  (used 
contemptuously)  ;  Quarto  i, 
"  g'Mt " ;  Theobald,  "  knot," 
etc.)  ;  V.  i.  n. 

Question,  trial  and  decision  by 
force  of  arms ;  I.  iii.  23. 

Quests,  bodies  of  searchers ;  I. 
ii.  46. 

Quicken,  receive   life ;    III.   iii. 

277- 

Quillets,  quibbles;  III.  i.  25. 
Quirks,  shallow  conceits;  II.  i. 

63- 

Raised  up,  awakened ;    II.  iii. 

250. 

Rank,  coarse ;  II.  i.  314. 
Rank,  lustful  (?  morbid)  ;  III. 

iii.  232. 

Recognisance,  token ;  V.  ii.  214. 
Reconciliation,    restoration     to 

favour;  III.  iii.  47. 
Reference,  assignment  (Quarto 

i,  "  reuerence  " ;  Folios  3.  4, 

"  reverence  " ;  Johnson  conj. 

"preference")  ;  I.  iii.  238. 
Regard,  view;  II.  i.  40. 
Region,  part ;  IV.  i.  84. 
Relume,  rekindle ;  V.  ii.  13. 
Remorse,  pity,  compassion;  III. 

iii.  369. 

Remove,  banish ;  IV.  ii.  14. 
Repeals,  recalls  to  favour ;  II. 

iii.  363. 
Reprobation,  perdition,  damna- 

t  i  o  n        (Folios,       "  Repro- 

bance")  ;  V.  ii.  209. 
Reverses,  keeps;  III.  iii.  295. 
Respect,  notice ;  IV.  ii.  190. 
Re-stem,  retrace;  I.  iii.  37. 
Revolt,    inconstancy;    III.    iii. 

188. 


Rich,  valuable,  precious;  II.  iii. 

195- 
Roman   (used  ironically)  ;  IV. 

i.  121. 
Round,  straightforward,  plain ; 

I.  iii.  90. 

Rouse,  bumper,   full   measure ; 

II.  iii.  66. 

Rude,  harsh ;  III.  iii.  355. 
Ruffian 'd,    been    bois  t  e  r  o  u  s, 
raged;  II.  i.  7. 

Sadly,  sorrowfully ;  II.  i.  32. 
Safe,  sound ;  IV.  i.  272. 
Sagittary,  a  public  building  in 

Venice;  I.  i.  159. 
Salt,  lustful;  II.  i.  245. 
Sans,  without;  I.  iii.  64. 
'Sblood,  a  corruption  of  God's 

blood;  an  oath   (the  reading 

of     Quarto     i ;     omitted     in 

others)  ;  I.  i.  4. 
Scant,  neglect;  I.  iii.  268. 
'Scapes,  escapes ;  I.  iii.  136. 
Scattering,    random ;     III.    iii. 

151- 
Scion,  slip,  off- shoot  (Quartos, 

"syen";  Folios,  "Seyen"); 

I.  iii.  337- 

Scored  me,  "  made  my  reckon- 
ing, settled  the  term  of  my 

life"     (Johnson,     Schmidt). 

"branded     me"      (Steevens, 

Clarke)  ;  IV.  i.  129. 
Scorns,   expressions   of   scorn ; 

IV.  i.  83. 
Seamy  side  without,  wrong  side 

out ;  IV.  ii.  146. 
Sect,  cutting,  scion ;  I.  iii.  336. 
Secure,  free  from  care ;  IV.  i. 

72. 


159 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 


Secure  me,  feel  myself  secure; 

I.  iii.  10. 
Seel,  blind    (originally  a  term 

in  falconry)  ;  I.  iii.  270. 
Seeming,  appearance,  exterior; 

I.  iii.  109. 

— ,  hypocrisy ;  III.  iii.  209. 
Segregation,   dispersion;    II.   i. 

10. 
Self-bounty,   inherent   kindness 

and     benevolence ;     III.     iii. 

200. 
Self-charity,    charity    to    one's 

self;  II.  iii.  202. 
Se'nnight's,     seven     night's,     a 

week's ;  II.  i.  77. 
Sense,   feeling    (Quartos,  "  of- 
fence") ;  II.  iii.  268. 
;  "to  the  s.,"  i.e.  "to  the 

quick  "  ;  V.  i.  n. 
Sequent,  successive ;  I.  ii.  41. 
Sequester,    sequestration ;    III. 

iv.  40. 
Sequestration,  rupture,  divorce ; 

I.  iii.  351. 

Shore,  did  cut;  V.  ii.  206. 
Should,  could;  III.  iv.  23. 
Shrewd,  bad,  evil ;  III.  iii.  429. 
Shrift,   shriving  place,   confes- 
sional ;  III.  iii.  24. 
Shut  up  in,  confine  to;  III.  iv. 

121. 

Sibyl,  prophetess ;  III.  iv.  70. 
Siege,  rank,  place ;  I.  ii.  22. 
Simpleness,    simplicity ;    I.    iii. 

247. 
Sir;  "  play  the  s.,"  play  the  fine 

gentleman ;  II.  i.  176. 
Sith,  since  (Quartos,  "  since '')  ; 

III.  iii.  380. 
Skillet,  boiler,  kettle ;  I.  iii.  273. 

The    accompanying    illustra- 


tion represents  an  old  six- 
teenth century  helmet  used  as 
a  skillet,  which  was  found  in 
dredging  the  Thames  near 
the  Tower  of  London. 


Slight,  worthless,  frivolous;  II. 
iii.  279. 

Slipper,  slippery;  II.  i.  246. 

Slubber,  sully,  soil ;  I.  iii.  227. 

Snipe,  simpleton  (Folio  i, 
"  S n p  e" ;  Folio  2.  ''a 
Swaine";  Folios  3,  4.  "a 
Swain  ")  ;  I.  iii.  390. 

Snorting,  snoring ;  I.  i.  90. 

Soft,  mild,  gentle ;  I.  iii.  82. 

Soft  you,  hold ;  V.  ii.  338. 

Something,  somewhat ;  II.  iii. 
199. 

Sorry,  painful  (Quartos,  "sul- 
len " ;  Collier  MS.,  "  sud- 
den") ;  III.  iv.  51. 

Spake,  said,  affirmed  (Quarto 
3,  "  speake  ")  ;  V.  ii.  327. 


160 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE 


Glossary 


Spartan  dog,  the  dogs  of  Spar- 
tan breed  were  fiercest ;  V.  ii. 
361. 

Speak  i'  the  nose,  "  the  Nea- 
politans have  a  singularly 
drawling  nasal  twang  in  the 
utterance  of  their  dialect; 
and  Shylock  tells  of  '  when 
the  bagpipe  sings  i'  the 
nose''  (Clarke);  (Collier 
MS.,  "squeak";  etc.);  HI. 

-    i.  5- 

Speak  parrot,  talk  nonsense ;  II. 

iii.  280. 
Speculative,      possessing      the 

power  of  seeing;   I.   iii.  271. 
Spend,  waste,  squander ;  II.  iii. 

195- 

Spleen,  choler,  anger ;  IV.  i.  89. 

Splinter,  secure  by  splints;  II. 
iii.  329. 

Squire,  fellow  (used  contemp- 
tuously) ;  IV.  ii.  145. 

Stand  in  act,  are  in  action ;  I.  i. 
152. 

Start,  startle,  rouse;  I.  i.  101. 

Startingly,  abruptly  (Folios  3, 
4,  "  staringly")  ;  III.  iv.  79. 

Stay,  are  waiting  for ;  IV.  ii. 
170. 

Stead,  benefit,  help;  I.  iii.  344. 

Still,  often,  now  and  again ;  I. 
iii.  147. 

Stomach,  appetite ;  V.  ii.  75. 

Stop;  "your  s.,"  the  impedi- 
ment you  can  place  in  my 
way ;  V.  ii.  264. 

Stoup,  a  vessel  for  holding 
liquor;  II.  iii.  30. 

Stow'd,  bestowed,  placed ;  I.  ii. 
62. 

Straight,  straightway ;  I.  i.  138. 


Strain,  urge,  press :  III.  iii.  250. 

Strangeness,  estrang  e  m  e  n  t 
(Quartos,  "strangest"')  ;  III. 
iii.  12. 

Strawberries;  the  accompany- 
ing engraving  is  copied  from 
"  a  piece  of  Elizabethan  nee- 
dlework in  which  the  straw- 
berry and  pink  alternate  over 
a  ground  of  fawn-coloured 
silk  "  ;  III.  iii.  435. 


Stuff  o'  the  conscience,  matter 
of  conscience ;  I.  ii.  2. 

Subdued,  make  subject;  I.  iii. 
251- 

Success,  that  which  follows, 
consequence;  III.  iii.  222. 

Sudden,  quick,  hasty ;  II.  i.  278. 

Sufferance,  damage,  loss ;  II.  i. 
23- 

Sufficiency,  ability ;  I.  iii.  224. 

Sufficient,  able;  III.  iv.  91. 

Suggest,  tempt ;  II.  iii.  358. 

Supersubtle,  excessively  crafty 
(Collier  MS.,  "super-sup- 
ple") ;  I.  iii.  363. 

Sweeting,  a  term  of  endear- 
ment ;  II.  iii.  252. 

Swelling,  inflated ;  II.  iii.  57. 


161 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 


Sword  of  Spain,  Spanish 
swords  were  celebrated  for 
their  excellence ;  V.  ii.  253. 

Ta'en  order,  taken  measures ; 
V.  ii.  72. 

Ta'en  out,  copied ;  III.  iii.  296. 

Tainting,  disparaging;  II.  i. 
274. 

Take  out,  copy ;  III.  iv.  180. 

Take  up  at  the  best,  make  the 
best  of;  I.  iii.  173. 

Talk,  talk  nonsense ;  IV.  iii.  25. 

Talk  me,  speak  to  me  ;  III.iv.Q2. 

Tells  o'er,  counts ;  III.  iii.  169. 

Theoric,  theory ;  Li.  24. 

Thick-lips ;  used  contemptuous- 
ly for  "  Africans  "  ;  I.  i.  66. 

Thin,  slight,  easily  seen 
through ;  I.  iii.  108. 

Thread,  thread  of  life ;  V.  ii. 
206. 

Thrice-driven,  "  referring  to 
the  selection  of  the  feathers 
by  driving  with  a  fan,  to  sep- 
arate the  light  from  the 
heavy "  (Johnson)  ;  I.  iii. 
232. 

Thrive  in,  succeed  in  gaining; 

I.  iii.  125. 

Time,  life ;  I.  i.  162. 
Timorous,  full  of  fear ;  I.  i.  75. 
Tire,  make  tired,  weary  out ;  II. 

i.65. 
Toged,  wearing  the  toga;  I.  i. 

25- 
Told,   struck,   counted    (Folios 

3,4,  "toll'd")  ;  II.  ii.  n. 
Toy,  fancy;  III.  iv.  156. 
Toys,  trifles ;  I.  iii.  269. 
Trash,  worthless  thing,  dross; 

II.  i.  311. 


,  keep  back,  hold  in  check 

(a  hunter's  term)  ;  II.  i.  311. 

Traverse,  march,  go  on ;  I.  iii. 
3/8. 

Trimm'd  in,  dressed  in.  wear- 
ing; I.  i.  50. 

Turn;  "  t.  thy  complexion." 
change  colour  ;  IV.  ii.  62. 

Unblcst,  accursed;   II.  iii.  311. 

Unbonnettcd,     without     taking 

off  the  cap,  on  equal  terms ; 

I.  ii.  23. 

Unbookish,  ignorant ;   IV.  i.  102. 
Uncapablc,    incapable;    IV.    ii. 

232. 

Undertaker;     "  his     u.,"     take 
•     charge  of  him,  dispatch  him ; 

IV.  i.  224. 
Unfold,  reveal,  bring  to  light ; 

IV.  ii.  141. 
Unfolding,   communication :    I. 

iii.  245. 
Unhandsome,    unfair;    III.    iv. 

151. 

Unhatch'd,  undisclosed;  III.  iv. 

141. 
Unhoused,  homeless,  not  tied  to 

a  household  and  family ;  I.  ii. 

26. 

Unlace,  degrade ;  II.  iii.  104. 
Unperfectness,       imperfection ; 

II.  iii.  298. 

Unprovidc,  make  unprepared ; 
IV.  i.  211. 

Unsure,  uncertain ;  III.  iii.  151. 

Unvarnish'd,  plain,  unadorned ; 
I.  iii.  90. 

Umvitted,  deprived  of  under- 
standing; II.  iii.  182. 

Upon,  incited  by,  urged  by;  I. 
i.  IOO. 


162 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE 


Glossary 


Use,  custom ;  IV.  i.  277. 
Uses,  manners,  habits   (Quarto 
i,  "  vsage")  ;  IV.  iii.  105. 

Vantage ;  "  to  the  v.,''  over  and 
above ;  IV.  iii.  85. 

Vessel,  body;  IV.  ii.  83. 

Vesture,  garment ;  II.  i.  64. 

Violence,  bold  action ;  I.  iii. 
250. 

Virtuous,  having  efficacy,  pow- 
erful;  III.  iv.  in. 

Voices,  votes ;  I.  iii.  261. 

Vouch,  assert,  maintain ;  I.  iii. 
103,  106. 

,  bear  witness ;  I.  iii.  262. 

,  testimony ;  II.  i.  148. 

Wage,  venture,  attempt;  I.  iii. 
30. 

Watch,  watchman;  V.  i.  37. 

Watch  him,  keep  him  from 
sleeping ;  a  term  in  falconry ; 
III.  iii.  23. 

Wearing,  clothes ;  IV.  iii.  16. 

Well  said,  well  done  (Quartos, 
"well  scd")  ;  II.  i.  168. 

What,  who;  I.  i.  18. 

Wheeling,  errant  (Quarto  2, 
"wheedling")  ;  I.  i.  137. 

Whipster,  one  who  whips  out 
his  sword  (used  contemptu- 
ously) ;  V.  ii.  244. 

White  (used  with  a  play  upon 
white  and  wight)  ;  II.  i.  134. 

Wholesome,  reasonable ;  III.  i. 
49- 

Wicker,  covered  with  wicker- 
work;  (Folios,"  Twiggen  ") ', 
II.  iii.  152. 


Wight,  person  (applied  to  both 
sexes)  ;  II.  i.  159. 

Wind;  "let  her  down  the  w."; 
the  falconers  always  let  the 
hawk  fly  against  the  wind ;  if 
she  flies  with  the  wind  behind 
her  she  seldom  returns.  If 
therefore  a  hawk  was  for  any 
reason  to  be  dismissed,  she 
was  let  down  the  wind,  and 
from  that,  time  shifted  for 
herself  and  preyed  at  for- 
tune "  (Johnson)  ;  III.  iii. 
262. 

Wind-shaked,  wind-shaken;  II. 
i.  13- 

With,  by ;  II.  i.  34. 

Withal,  with  ;  I.  iii.  93. 

With  all  my  heart,  used  both 
as  a  salutation,  and  also  as  a 
reply  to  a  salutation ;  IV.  i. 
220. 

Within  door ;  "  speak  w.  d.,"  i.e. 
"  not  so  loud  as  to  be  heard 
outside  the  house " ;  IV.  ii. 
144. 

Woman'd,  accompanied  by  a 
woman  ;  III.  iv.  195. 

Worser,  worse ;  I.  i.  95. 

Wrcncli,  wrest  (Quarto  I, 
"Wring")  ;  V.  ii.  288. 

Wretch,  a  term  of  endearment ; 
(Theobald,  "wench");  III. 
iii.  90. 

Wrought,  worked  upon ;  V.  ii. 
345- 

Yerk'd,  thrust ;  I.  ii.  5. 
Yet,  as  yet,  till  now ;  III.  iii. 
432. 


103 


TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO. 


Critical  Notes. 

BY  ISRAEL  GOLLANCZ. 

I.  i.  15.  Omitted  in  Folios  and  Quartos  2,  3. 

I.  i.  21.  'A  fellow  almost  damn'd  in  a  fair  wife';  if  this  alludes 
to  Bianca.  the  phrase  may  possibly  mean  '  very  near  being  married 
to  a  most  fair  wife.'  Some  explain  "  A  fellow  whose  ignorance  of 
war  would  be  condemned  in  a  fair  woman."  The  emendations 
proposed  are  unsatisfactory,  and  probably  unnecessary. 

I.  i.  72.  '  changes ' ;  Folios  read  '  chances.' 

I.  ii.  72-77;  iii.  16;  36;  63;  118;  123;  194;  omitted  in  Quarto  i. 

I.  ii.  75.  '  weaken  motion  ' ;  Rowe's  emendation ;  Folios,  and 
Quartos  2,  3,  '  weakens  motion  ' ;  Pope  (Ed.  2,  Theobald)  '  weaken 
notion';  Hanmer,  'waken  motion';  Keightley,  'wakens  motion'; 
Anon.  conj.  in  Furness,  'wake  emotion',  etc. 

I.  iii.  67.  '  bloody  book  of  lazv ' ;  "  By  the  Venetian  law  the 
giving  of  love-potions  was  highly  criminal"  (Clarke). 

I.  iii.  87.  'feats  of  broil';  Capell's  emendation;  Quarto  i.  '  feate 
of  broile ' ;  Folio  I,  '  Feats  of  Broiles,'  etc. 

I.  iii.  107.  '  Certain  ' ;  so  Quartos  ;  Folios,  '  wider.' 

I.  iii.  139.  '  parlance  in  my ' ;  so  Folios  and  Quarto  2 ;  Quarto 
3,  '  portcnce  in  my';  Quarto  I,  '  with  it  all  my';  Johnson  conj. 
'parlance  in't;  my';  etc.;  'travels'';  the  reading  of  Modern 
Edd.  (Globe  Ed.);  Quartos,  'trauells';  Pope,  'travels':  Folio 
i.  '  7  raucllours ' ;  Folios  2.  3.  '  Travellers ' ;  Folio  4,  '  Traveller's ' : 
Richardson  conj.  '  travellous'  or  '  travailous.' 

I.  iii.  159.'  sighs  ' ;    Folios,    '  kisses ' ;    Southern    MS.,   '  thanks.' 

I.  iii.  250.  'and  storm  of  fortunes';  Quarto  i,  'and  scorne  of 
Fortunes'  etc. 

I.  iii.  261.  '  Let  her  have  your  voices';  Dyce's  correction; 
Folios.  '  Let  her  have  your  voice ' ;  Quartos  read — 

"  Your  voyccs  Lords;  beseech  you  let  her  will 
haue  a  free  way." 

I.  iii.  264-265.  'the  young  affects  In  me  defunct';  Quartos, 
'  the  young  affects  In  my  defunct ' ;  so  Folio  i ;  Folios  2,  3.  4, 
'  effects.'  The  reading  of  the  text  is  the  simplest  and  most  plau- 

164 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Notes 

sible  emendation  of  the  many  proposed,  the  words  meaning  '  the 
passions  of  youth  which  I  have  now  outlived ' :  '  proper  satisfac- 
tion '  —  '  my  own  gratification.' 

I.  iii.  330.  '  balance  ' ;  Folios,  '  brain  '  and  '  braine ' ;  Theobald, 
'  beam' 

I.  iii.  354.  '  luscious  as  locusts ' ;  "  perhaps  so  mentioned  from 
being  placed  together  with  wild  honey  in  St.  Matthew  iii.  4 " 
(Schmidt). 

I.  iii.  358.  Omitted  in  Folios. 

I.  iii.  384-388.  The   reading  in  the  text  is  that  of  the   second 
and    third    Quartos ;    Quarto    I,    adds    after    the    words    '  /    am 
chang'd ' — 

"  Goe  to  farewell,  put  money  enough  in  your  purse  " ; 

omitting  '  I'll  go  sell  all  my  land.' 

II.  i.  39-40;    158;   260    ('didst  not  mark   that?');   omitted  in 
Quarto  i. 

II.  i.  65.  '  tire  the  ingencr';  Knight,  Steevens  conj.;  Folio  r, 
'tyre  the  Ingeniuer';  Folios  2,  3,  4,  'tire  the  Ingeniver';  Quarto 
i,  '  bcare  all  Excellency' — ;  Quartos  2,  3,  '  beare  an  excelency' : — 
Johnson  conj.  '  tire  the  ingenious  verse';  Pope,  'beare  all  excel- 
lency— ' 

II.  i.  82.  'And     .     .     .     Cyprus';  omitted  in  Folios. 

II.  i.  249.  '  a  devilish  knave ' ;  omitted  in  Quartos. 

II.  i.  258.  '  blest  pudding ' ;  Folios,  '  Bless'd  pudding  ' ;  omitted 
in  Quartos. 

II.  i.  267-268.  '  comes  the  master  and  main  ' ;  so  Folios  ;  Quarto 
i  reads  '  comes  the  maim ' ;  Quartos  2,  3,  '  comes  Roderigo,  the 
master  and  the  maine.' 

II.  i.  279.  '  haply  may  ' ;  Quartos  read  '  haply  with  his  Trunchen 
may.' 

II.  i.  311.  'poor  trash  of  Venice,  whom  I  trash';  Steevens' 
emendation ;  Quarto  i,  '  poor  trash  .  .  .  I  crush ' ;  Folios, 
Quartos  2.  3.  '  poor  Trash  ...  7  trace ' ;  Theobald,  Warbur- 
ton  conj.  'poor  brach  .  .  .  7  trace';  Warburton  (later  conj.) 
'poor  brach  ...  7  clicrish.' 

II.  iii.  42.  '  here,'  i.e.  in  my  head. 

II.  iii.  92-99.  These  lines  are  from  an  old  song  called  '  Take  thy 
old  cloak  about  thee,'  to  be  found  in  Percy's  Reliques. 

II.  iii.  167.  '  sense  of  place ' ;  Hanmer's  emendation  of  Quar- 
tos: Folios,  'place  of  sense.' 

II.  iii.  292.  '  transform   ourselves    into    beasts.'     "  This    trans- 

165 


Notes 


TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 


formation  was  frequently  depicted  in  old  satirical  prints ;  as  in 
the  woodcut  here  copied  from  the  Musarum  Deliciae  1657,  repre- 
senting '  the  drunken  humors ' 
imparting  to  men  the  feeling  and 
manners  of  the  tiger,  the  ass,  the 
fox,  the  dog,  the  ape  and  the 
swine." 

II.  iii.  318.  'some      time';      so 
Quartos ;  Folios,  '  a  time ' ;  Grant 
White,  '  one  time.' 

III.  i.  13.  '  for      love's      sake'; 
Quarto  i,  '  of  all  loues.' 

III.  i.  43.  '  F  I  o  r  c  n  tine,'  i.e. 
'  even  a  Florentine ' ;  lago  was  a 
Venetian. 

III.  i.  52.  Omitted  in  Folios. 
III.  iii.  23.  '  watch    him     tame,' 
i.e.  tame  him  by  keeping  him   from   sleep    (as   was   done   with 
hawks). 

III.  iii.  106.  'By  heaven,  he  echoes  me';  Quarto  i,  '  By  heauen 
he  ecchocs  me';  Folios  'Alas,  thou  ccchos't  me';  Quartos  2,  3, 
'  why  dost  thou  ecchoe  me.' 

III.  iii.  132.  '  thy  worst  of  thoughts';  so  Folios,  Quarto  2; 
Quarto  i  reads  '  the  worst  of  thoughts';  Quarto  3,  '  thy 
thoughts';  perhaps  we  should  read: — 

"As  thou  dost  rum'nate,  give  thy  worst  of  tlioughts." 

III.  iii.  170.  'strongly';  so  Quartos;  Folios,  'soundly';  Knight, 
•'  fondly.' 

III.  iii.  277.  '  Dcsdemona  comes ' ;  so  Quartos ;  Folios  read 
'  Looke  where  she  comes.' 

III.  iii.  325;  383-390;  453-460;  iv.  8-10 ;  195-196.  Omitted  in 
Quarto  i. 

III.  iii.  440.  '  any  that  was  hers ' ;  Malone's  emendation  ;  Quar- 
tos, '  any,  it  was  hers ' ;  Folio  I,  '  any,  it  was  hers ' ;  Folios  2,  3,  4, 
'any,  if't  vvas  hers';  Anon.  conj.  'any  'it'  was  hers.' 

III.  iii.  447.  '  thy  hollow  cell';  so  Quartos;  Folios  read  '  the 
hollow  hell';  Warburtan,  '  th'  unhallow'd  cell.' 

III.  iii.  456.  Steevens  compares  the  following  passage  in  Hol- 
land's Pliny : — "  And  the  sea  Pontus  ever  more  floweth  and  run- 
neth out  from  Propontes,  but  the  sea  never  retireth  back  again 
wfthin  Pontus." 

166 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Notes 

III.  iii.  469.  'business  ever';  Quartos,  '  worke  so  eucr';  Col- 
lier, '  work  soe'er,'  etc. 

III.  iv.  47.  '  our  new  heraldry,'  (vide  PREFACE). 

III.  iv.  65.  'her,'  i.e.  to  my  wife  (implied  in  'wive'). 

III.  iv.  121.  'shut  myself  up  in,'  etc.,  i.e.  'Confine  myself  to 
some  other  course  of  life,  awaiting  fortune's  charity ' ;  Quarto  i, 
'  shoote  my  selfe  up  in';  Capell,  'shoot  myself  upon';  Rann, 
'shape  myself  upon';  Collier  MS.,  'shift  myself  upon.' 

III.  iv.  151.  'warrior';   Hanmer,  'wrangler';  cp.  '  O  my  fair 
warrior ' ;  (II.  i.  184) . 

IV.  i.  77.  '  here  o'erwlielmed  ' ;  Quarto  i,  '  here  ere  while,  mad.' 
IV.  i.  122.   ('  What,  a  customer!')  ;  ii.  73-76;  iii.  60-63,  87-104; 

omitted  in  Quarto  I. 

IV.  i.  137-138.  'and,  by  tliis  hand,  she  falls  me';  so  Collier; 
Quarto  i,  reads  '  by  this  hand  she  fals ' ;  Folios,  '  and  falls  me ' ; 
Quartos  2,  3,  '  fals  me.' 

IV.  i.  268.  '  This  the  nature,'  Pope's  reading;  Quartos,  '  This 
the  noble  nature';  -Folios,  '  Is  this  the  nature.' 

IV.  ii.  109.  '  least  misuse ' ;  Quarto  i,  '  greatest  abuse ' ;  Collier 
MS.,  '  least  misdeede.' 

IV.  ii.  170.  '  The  messengers  of  Venice  stay  the  meat'; 
Knight's  reading;  Folio  i,  '  The  Messengers  of  Venice  staies  the 
meate ' ;  Folios  2,  3,  4,  '  The  Messenger  of  Venice  stoics  the 
mcatc';  Quarto  i,  'And  the  great  Messengers  of  Venice  stay'; 
Quartos  2,  3, '  The  meate,  great  Messengers  of  Venice  stay.' 

IV.  iii.  23.  'All's  one.  Good  faith';  Quarto  i,  'All's  one 
good  faith';  Quartos  2,  3,  'All's  one;  good  father';  Folios, 
'All's  one:  good  Father.' 

IV.  iii.  26.  'Barbara';  Quartos  read  '  Barbary ' ;  Folio  i.  '  Bar- 
barie.' 

IV.  iii.  41,  etc. ;  the  original  of  Desdemona's  song  is  to  be 
found  in  Percy's  Rcliques  under  the  title  of  '  A  Lover's  Com- 
plaint, being  forsaken  of  his  Love';  where  the  plaintive  lover  is 
a  man. 

IV.  iii.  41.  'sighing';  Folios,  'singing';  Quarto  3,  '  singhing ' ; 
Folio  i,  (Dev.)  '  sining.' 

V.  i.  82-83;  ii.  82,  185-193,  266-272;  omitted  in  Quarto  I. 

V.  i.  105.  '  gentlemen,'  the  reading  of  Folios ;  Quartos,  '  Gen- 
tlewoman.' 

V.  i.  107.  'if  you  stare';  so  Folios;  Quartos  i,  2,  'an  you 
stirre  ' ;  Quarto  3,  '  an  you  stirr ' ;  Anon.  conj.  '  if  you  stay.' 

V.  ii.  7.  '  Put  out  the  light,  and  then  put  out  the  light';  i.e. 

167 


Notes  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

'  put  out  the  light,  and  then  put  out  the  light  of  life.'  The  Cam- 
bridge Editors  give  some  dozen  variant  methods  of  punctuating 
and  reading  the  line,  but  it  is  perfectly  clear  as  it  stands. 

V.  ii.  151.  'made  mocks  with  love';  "taken  advantage  to  play 
upon  the  weakness  of  passion  "  (Johnson). 

V.  ii.  172.  '  Disprove  this  villain  ' ;  Capell,  '  Disprove  it,  villain.' 

V.  ii.  337.  '  bring  au'ay ' ;  Quartos,  '  bring  him  away ' ;  Collier 
MS.,  '  bring  them  away.' 

V.  ii.  347.  'Indian';  Folio  I,  'ludean';  Theobald  proposed 
'Judian,'  adding,  "  I  am  satisfied  in  his  Indian  he  is  alluding  to 
Herod,  who,  in  a  fit  of  blind  jealosie,  threw  away  such  a  jewel  of 
a  wife  as  Mariamne  was  to  him."  This  interpretation  was  War- 
burton's.  "  This  it  is,"  as  Coleridge  put  it,  "  for  no-poets  to  com- 
ment on  the  greatest  of  poets !  To  make  Othello  say  that  he,  who 
had  killed  his  wife,  was  like  Herod  who  had  killed  Mariamne!  " 
Boswell  aptly  quotes  from  Habington's  Castara : — 

"So  the  unskilful  Indian  those  bright  gems 
Which  might  add  majesty  to  diadems, 
'Mong  the  waves  scatters." 


168 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE 


Explanatory  Notes. 

The  Explanatory  Xotes  in  this  edition  have  been  specially  selected  and 
adapted,  with  emendations  after  the  latest  and  best  authorities,  from  the 
most  eminent  Shakespearian  scholars  and  commentators,  including  Johnson, 
Malone,  Steevens,  Singer,  Dyce,  Hudson,  White,  Furness,  Dowden,  and 
others.  This  method,  here  introduced  for  the  first  time,  provides  the  best 
annotation  of  Shakespeare  ever  embraced  in  a  single  edition. 

ACT  FIRST. 
Scene  I. 

3.  shouldst  know  of  this: — Of  the  intended  elopement.  Rod- 
erigo  has  been  suing  for  Desdemona's  hand,  employing  lago  to 
aid  him  in  his  suit,  and  paying  his  service  in  advance.  The  play 
opens  pat  upon  her  elopement  with  the  Moor,  and  Roderigo  pre- 
sumes lago  to  have  been  in  the  secret  of  their  intention. 

10.  Off-capp'd : — To  cap  was  often  used  for  a  salutation  of  re- 
spect, made  by  taking  off  the  cap.  "  Three  great  ones  of  the  city," 
says  Knight,  "  wait  upon  Othello ;  they  off-capp'd — they  took  cap 
in  hand — in  personal  suit  that  he  should  make  lago  his  lieutenant." 

31.  By  debitor  and  creditor: — By  a  mere  accountant,  a  keeper 
of  debt  and  credit.  lago  means  that  Cassio,  though  knowing  no 
more  of  war  than  men  of  the  gown,  as  distinguished  from  men  of 
the  sword,  has  yet  outsailed  him  in  military  advancement.  Again, 
he  calls  Cassio  "this  counter-caster"  in  allusion  to  the  counters 
formerly  used  in  reckoning  up  accounts. 

33.  ancient: — This  old  corruption  of  ensign  was  used  both  for 
a  standard  and  a  standard-bearer.  For  both  uses  see  i  Henry  IV ., 
IV.  ii.  25  and  33  respectively.  But  that  ensign  was  in  use  in 
Shakespeare's  day  is  abundantly  proved,  as  in  Drayton's  Barons' 
Warrcs : — 

"  Ensigne  beards  Ensigne,  Sword  'gainst  Sword  doth  shake." 

39.  Whether  I  stand  within  any  such  terms  of  affinity  to  the 
Moor,  as  that  I  am  bound  to  love  him. 

169 


Notes  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

45.  knee-crooking  knave: — We  have  here  a  notable  example  of 
the  use  of  knave  in  the  transition  stage  between  its  second  and  its 
third  or  present  meaning.  It  first  meant  a  child ;  then,  because 
children  served  their  elders,  a  servant ;  and  finally,  because  of  the 
dishonesty  and  loose  morals  of  servants,  a  rogue.  In  Roderigo's 
account  of  the  elopement,  farther  on  in  this  scene,  the  word  occurs 
in  its  secondary  sense,  "  a  knave  of  common  hire,  a  gondolier." 
The  opprobrious  sense  of  the  word  seems  to  have  become  fixed 
early  in  the  second  quarter  of  the  seventeenth  century.  "  For 
whosoeuer  should  in  these  present  times  say  in  England  to  some 
English  men  knaue,  which  formerly  was  taken  for  a  man  sertiant, 
and  on  which  word  the  law  takes  no  hold,  it  would  not  take  well, 
for  that  knaue  and  a  base  fellow  signifieth  the  selfe  same  thing." 

65.  /  am  not  what  I  am : — A  misprint,  perhaps,  for  "  I  am  not 
what  I  seem."    This,  at  all  events,  is  probably  the  meaning  of 
lago. 

66.  full  fortune,  etc. : — So  both  the  Quartos :    the  Folio  has  fall 
instead  of  full.     The  meaning  is,  how  fortunate   he  is,  or  how 
strong  in  fortune,  if  he  can  hold  out  against  such  practice.     Simi- 
lar language  occurs  in  Cymbeline :     "  Our  pleasure  his  full  fortune 
doth  confine."     And  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra:    "The  imperious 
show  of  the  full-fortuned  Caesar."     Of  course  owe  is  used  in  the 
old  sense  of  own  or  possess. 

75,  76.  In  the  time  of  night  and  negligence ;  a  very  common 
form  of  expression.  Timorous  was  sometimes  used,  as  fearful 
still  is.  for  that  which  frightens.  Old  dictionaries  explain  it, 
"  fearful,  horridus,  formidolosus." 

106.  My  house  is  not  a  grange: — Mine  is  not  a  lone  house. 
where  a  robbery  might  easily  be  committed.  Grange  is,  strictly, 
the  farm  of  a  monastery ;  but,  provincially,  any  lone  house  or  soli- 
tary farm  is  called  a  grange.  So  in  Measure  for  Measure,  III.  i. 
274,  275:  "There,  at  the  moated  grange,  resides  this  dejected 
Mariana." 

114.  A  gennet  is  a  horse;  strictly  a  Spanish  horse  of  the  breed 
called  barbs,  introduced  into  Spain  by  the  Moors  from  Barbary. 
Germans,  meaning  brothers,  sisters,  or  cousins,  is  here  used  for 
any  near  relations. 

126.  gondolier : — A  writer  in  the  Pictorial  Shakspcrc  tells  us, 
"  that  the  gondoliers  are  the  only  conveyors  of  persons,  and  of  a 
large  proportion  of  property,  in  Venice ;  that  they  are  thus 
cognizant  of  all  intrigues,  and  the  fittest  agents  in  them,  and  are 
under  perpetual  and  strong  temptations  to  make  profit  of  the 

170 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Notes 

secrets  of  society.  Brabantio  might  well  be  in  horror  at  his. 
daughter  having,  in  '  the  dull  watch  o'  the  night,  no  worse  nor 
better  guard.'  " 

132.  from : — Against  or  opposed  to. 

137.  In  an  extravagant  and  wheeling  stranger: — A  stranger  who 
has  no  fixed  abode,  whose  life  is  irregular.  So  in  Markham's 
English  Housewife,  "  The  Sewer  upon  the  placing  them  [certain 
dishes]  upon  the  table  shall  not  set  them  down  as  he  received 
them,  but  setting  the  Sallets  extravagantly  about  the  table,"  etc., 
Ed.  1653;  and  in  Hamlet,  I.  i.  154,  155,  "The  extravagant  and 
erring  spirit  hies  to  his  confine."  So  lago,  Sc.  iii.,  362,  363,  of 
this  Act  calls  Othello  an  "  erring  barbarian." 

143.  not  unlike  my  dream: — "The  careful  old  senator,"  says 
Coleridge,  "  being  caught  careless,  transfers  his  caution  to  his 
dreaming-power  at  least." 

159.  The  Sagittary  is  supposed  by  some  commentators  to  have 
been  some  public  house  or  inn  with  a  figure  of  the  Archer,  after 
Sagittarius,  ninth  sign  of  the  zodiac,  for  the  sign  of  the  house 
itself.  Perhaps  Shakespeare  knew  at  Venice  an  inn  so  called. 

182.  at  most: — That  is,  at  most  of  the  houses. 


Scene  II. 

2.  stuff  o'  the  conscience : — A  point  or  matter  of  conscience. 

8.  lago  is  speaking  of  Roderigo,  and  pretending  to  relate  what 
he  has  done  and  said  against  Othello. 

22.  men  of  royal  siege : — Men  who  have  sat  on  kingly  thrones. 
Siege  was  often  thus  used  for  seat. 

22,  23.  my  demerits  may  speak  unbonncted,  etc. : — Shakespeare 
and  his  contemporaries  use  demerits  to  express  both  the  presence 
and  the  absence  of  merit.  See  an  instance  of  the  former  in  Mac- 
beth, IV.  iii.,  and  of  the  latter  in  Coriolanus,  I.  i.  Unbonneted 
can  only  mean  without  the  bonnet ;  which  sense,  as  the  uncovering 
of  the  head  is  a  sign  of  deference,  seems  at  variance  with  the 
manifest  purpose  of  Othello's  speech.  Yet  there  does  not  appear 
to  be  sufficient  reason  for  us  to  assume  that  there  is  corruption. 
Theobald  would  have  read,  "  may  speak  and  bonneted." 

28.  the  sea's  worth  : — Pliny,  the  naturalist,  has  a  chapter  on  the 
riches  of  the  sea.  The  expression  seems  to  have  been  proverbial. 

59.  There  seems  to  be  a  sort  of  playful,  good-humoured  irony 
expressed  in  the  very  rhythm  of  this  line.  Throughout  this  Scene, 


Notes  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

Othello  appears  at  all  points  "  the  noble  nature,  whose  solid  virtue 
the  shot  of  accident,  nor  dart  of  chance,  could  neither  graze,  nor 
pierce  ";  his  calmness  and  intrepidity  of  soul,  his  heroic  modesty, 
his  manly  frankness  and  considerative  firmness  of  disposition  are 
all  displayed  at  great  advantage,  marking  his  character  as  one 
made  up  of  the  most  solid  and  gentle  qualities.  Though  he  has 
nowise  wronged  Brabantio,  he  knows  that  he  seems  to  have  done 
so:  his  feelings  therefore  take  the  old  man's  part,  and  he  respects 
his  age  and  sorrow  too  much  to  resent  his  violence ;  hears  his 
charges  with  a  kind  of  reverential  defiance,  and  answers  them  as 
knowing  them  false,  yet  sensible  of  their  reasonableness,  and  hon- 
ouring him  the  more  for  making  them. 

68.  In  Shakespeare's  time  it  was  the  fashion  for  lusty  gallants 
to  wear  "  a  curled  bush  of  frizzled  hair."  In  King  Lear,  Edgar, 
when  he  was  "  proud  in  heart  and  mind,"  curled  his  hair.  The 
Poet  has  other  allusions  to  the  custom  among  people  of  rank  and 
fashion. 

99.  Pagan  was  a  word  of  contempt ;  and  the  reason  will  appear 
from  its  etymology :  "  Paganus.  villanus  vel  incultus.  Et  deriva- 
tur  a  pagus,  quod  est  villa.  Et  quicunque  habitat  in  villa  cst 
paganus.  Praetera  quicunque  est  extra  civitatem  Dei.  i.  e.,  eccle- 
siam.  dicitur  paganus.  Anglice,  a  paynim." — Ortus  Vocabulorum, 
1528. 

Scene  III. 

23.  That  he  may  capture  it  with  an  easier  conflict. 

48,  49.  employ  you,  etc. : — It  was  part  of  the  policy  of  the  Vene- 
tian state  to  employ  strangers,  and  even  Moors,  in  their  wars. 
"  By  lande  they  are  served  of  straungers,  both  for  generals,  for 
capitaines,  and  for  all  other  men  of  warre,  because  theyr  lawe 
permitteth  not  any  Venetian  to  be  capitaine  over  an  armie  by 
lande ;  fearing,  I  thinke,  Caesar's  example." — Thomas's  History  of 
Italye. 

67.  bloody  book  of  law. — By  the  Venetian  law  the  giving  love- 
potions  was  highly  criminal,  as  appears  in  the  Code  Delia  Promi-s- 
sion  del  Malefico. 

96.  herself: — Shakespeare,  like  other  writers  of  his  age,  fre- 
quently uses  the  personal  instead  of  the  neutral  pronoun. 

140.  antres: — Caverns;  from  antrum,  Lat.  Warburton  observes 
that  Rymer  ridicules  this  whole  circumstance;  and  Shaftesbury 
obliquely  sneers  at  it.  "  Whoever,"  says  Johnson,  "  ridicules  this 

172 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Notes 

account  of  the  progress  of  love,  shows  his  ignorance  not  only  of 
history,  but  of  nature  and  manners.  It  is  no  wonder  that,  in  any 
age,  or  in  any  nation,  a  lady,  recluse,  timorous,  and  delicate, 
should  desire  to  hear  of  events  and  scenes  which  she  could  never 
see,  and  should  admire  the  man  who  had  endured  dangers,  and 
performed  actions,  which,  however  great,  were  magnified  by  her 
timidity.'1 

144,  145.  Nothing  excited  more  universal  attention  than  the  ac- 
count brought  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  on  his  return  from  his  cele- 
brated voyage  to  Guiana  in  1595,  of  the  cannibals,  amazons,  and 
especially  of  the  nation,  "  whose  heads  do  grow  beneath  their 
shoulders."  A  short  extract  of  the  more  wonderful  passages  was 
also  published  in  Latin  and  in  several  other  languages  in  1599, 
adorned  with  copper-plates,  representing  these  cannibals,  ama- 
zons, and  headless  people,  etc.  These  extraordinary  reports  were 
universally  credited ;  and  Othello  therefore  assumes  no  other 
character  but  what  was  very  common  among  the  celebrated  com- 
manders of  the  Poet's  time. 

155.  not  intentivcly: — Intention  and  attention  were  once  synony- 
mous. "  Intentivc,  which  listeneth  well  and  is  earnestly  bent  to  a 
thing,"  says  Bullokar,  in  his  Expositor,  1616. 

163.  such  a  man  : — A  question  has  been  raised  whether  the 
meaning  here  is,  that  Desdernona  wished  such  a  man  had  been 
made  for  her,  or  that  she  herself  had  been  made  such  a  man; 
and  several  have  insisted  on  the  latter,  lest  the  lady's  delicacy 
should  be  impeached.  Her  delicacy  stands  in  need  of  no  such 
critical  guardianship. 

199.  Let  me  speak  as  you  yourself  have  spoken ;  referring  to 
Brabantio's  words,  "  I  here  do  give  thee  that."  etc. 

202.  This  is  expressed  in  a  common  proverbial  form  in  Love's 
Labour's  Lost:  "  Past  cure  is  still  past  care." 

219.  pierced  through  the  ear: — The  wounded  heart  was  healed 
with  words,  pierced  being  used  simply  in  the  sense  of  reached  or 
penetrated.  So  in  The  Faerie  Quccnc,  vi.  9,  26 : — 

"  Whyl'st  thus  he  talkt,  the  Knight  with  greedy  eare 
Hong  still  upon  his  melting  mouth  attent ; 
Whose  sensefull  words  etnpiersi  his  hart  so  neare, 
That  he  was  wrapt  with  double  ravishment." 

Dyce  quotes  the  First  Part  of  Marlowe's  Tamburlaine,  I.  2: — 

"  Nor  thee  nor  them,  thrice-noble  Tamburlaine, 
Shall  want  my  heart  to  be  zi'ith  gladness  pierc'd." 

173 


Notes  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

249-251.  That  I  did  love  .  .  .  vvorld: — So  the  Folio  and  the 
Quarto  of  1630:  the  Quarto  of  1622  has  scorn  instead  of  storm. 
Scorn  will  not  cohere  with  violence,  unless  by  making  it  express 
a  quality  of  Desdemona  herself,  not  of  her  fortunes ;  the  sense  in 
that  case  being,  "  my  downright  violence  of  behaviour,  and  scorn 
of  fortune."  She  evidently  means  the  violence  and  storm  of  for- 
tunes which  she  has  braved  or  encountered  in  marrying  the  Moor, 
and  not  anything  of  a  violent  or  scornful  temper  in  herself. 

293-295.  Look  to  lier  .  .  .  her  faith: — "In  real  life,"  says 
Coleridge,  "  how  do  we  look  back  to  little  speeches  as  presenti- 
mental  of,  or  contrasted  with,  an  affecting  event !  Even  so  Shake- 
speare, as  secure  of  being  read  over  and  over,  of  becoming  a  fam- 
ily friend,  provides  this  passage  for  his  readers,  and  leaves  it  to 
them." 

313.  four  times  seven  years: — This  clearly  ascertains  the  age 
of  lago  to  be  twenty-eight  years ;  though  the  general  impres- 
sion of  him  is  that  of  a  much  older  man.  The  Poet,  no  doubt, 
had  a  wise  purpose  in  making  him  so  young,  as  it  infers  his  viru- 
lence of  mind  to  be  something  innate  and  spontaneous,  and  not 
superinduced  by  harsh  experience  of  the  world.  Verplanck  re- 
marks upon  it  thus :  "  An  old  soldier  of  acknowledged  merit,  who, 
after  years  of  service,  sees  a  young  man  like  Cassio  placed  over 
his  head,  has  not  a  little  to  plead  in  justification  of  deep  resent- 
ment, and  in  excuse,  though  not  in  defence,  of  his  revenge :  such 
a  man  may  well  brood  over  imaginary  wrongs.  The  caustic  sar- 
casm and  contemptuous  estimate  of  mankind  are  at  least  pardon- 
able in  a  soured  and  disappointed  veteran.  But  in  a  young  man 
the  revenge  is  more  purely  gratuitous,  the  hypocrisy,  the  knowl- 
edge, the  dexterous  management  of  the  worst  and  'weakest  parts 
of  human  nature,  the  recklessness  of  moral  feeling, — even  the 
stern,  bitter  wit,  intellectual  and  contemptuous,  without  any  of  the 
gaiety  of  youth. — are  all  precocious  and  peculiar;  separating 
lago  from  the  ordinary  sympathies  of  our  nature,  and  investing 
him  with  higher  talent  and  blacker  guilt." 

336.  337-  A  sect  is  what  the  gardeners  call  a  cutting.  "  This 
speech,"  observes  Coleridge,  ''  comprises  the  passionless  character 
of  lago.  It  is  all  will  in  intellect ;  and  therefore  he  is  here  a  bold 
partisan  of  a  truth,  but  yet  of  a  truth  converted  into  a  falsehood 
by  the  absence  of  all  the  necessary  modifications  caused  by  the 
frail  nature  of  man." 

354,  355.  Alluding,  probably,  to  the  ceratonia  or  carob,  an  ever- 
green growing  in  the  south  of  Europe,  and  bearing  sweet  black 

174 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Notes 

pods.     Commerce  had  made  the  fruit  well  known  in  London,  and 
locust  was  the  popular  name  for  it. 

396.  IV ill  do  .  .  .  well : — That  is.  I  will  act  as  if  I  were  cer- 
tain of  the  fact.  He  holds  me  well  is,  he  entertains  a  good  opinion 
of  me. 

ACT  SECOND. 
Scene  I. 

[A  sea-port  in  Cyprus.]  The  principal  seaport  town  of  Cyprus 
is  Famagusta ;  where  there  was  formerly  a  strong  fort  and  com- 
modious haven,  "  neare  which,"  says  Knolles,  "  standeth  an  old 
castle,  with  four  towers  after  the  ancient  manner  of  building." 
To  this  castle  we  find  that  Othello  presently  repairs. 

13.  There  is  implied  a  comparison  of  the  "  wind-shaked  surge  " 
to  the  war-horse ;   the  Poet  probably  having  in  mind  the  passage 
of  Job :     "  Hast   Thou  given   the   horse   strength  ?     Hast   Thou 
clothed  his  neck  with  thunder?  "    Knight  remarks  upon  the  place 
thus :  "  The  horse  of  Job  is  the  war-horse,  '  who  swalloweth  the 
ground  with  fierceness  and  rage  ' ;  and  when  Shakespeare  pictured 
to  himself  his  mane  wildly  streaming,  '  when  the  quiver  rattleth 
against  him,  the  glittering  spear,  and  the  shield,'  he  saw  an  image 
of  the  fury  of  the  '  wind-shaked  surge,'  and  of  its  very  form ; 
and  he  painted  it  'with  high  and  monstrous  mane.'  " 

14.  bear: — The  constellation  near  the  pole  star.     The  next  line 
alludes  to  the  star  Arctophylax,  which  literally  signifies  the  guard 
of  the  bear. 

26.  Veronesa: — This  refers  to  the  ship.  It  is  true,  the  same 
speaker  has  just  called  the  ship  "a  noble  ship  of  Venice  " ;  but 
Verona  was  tributary  to  the  Venetian  state ;  so  that  there  is  no 
reason  why  she  might  not  belong  to  Venice,  and  still  take  her 
name  from  Verona. 

39, 40.  till  we  make  the  main  .  .  .  regard : — Till  sea  and 
sky  blend  and  become  indistinguishable  to  sight.  On  this  passage 
Coleridge  remarks :  "  Observe  in  how  many  ways  Othello  is 
made,  first,  our  acquaintance,  then  our  friend,  then  the  object  of 
our  anxiety,  before  the  deeper  interest  is  to  be  approached." 

49.  Of  allowed  and  approved  expertness. 

64,  65.  By  the  essential  vesture  of  creation  the  Poet  seems  to 
mean  her  outzvard  form,  which  in  the  Merchant  of  Venice  (V.  i. 

175 


Notes  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

64)  he  calls  "  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay."  The  meaning  would 
appear  to  be,  "  She  is  one  who  exceeds  all  description,  and  in  real 
beauty,  or  outward  form,  goes  beyond  the  power  of  the  inventive 
pencil  of  the  artist.  Ben  Jonson.  in  his  Sejanus,  I.  i.,  says: 
"  No,  Silius,  we  are  no  good  inginers ;  we  want  their  fine  arts." 
Flecknoe,  in  1664,  speaking  of  painting,  mentions  "  the  stupendous 
works  of  your  great  ingeniers." 

70.  Ensteep'd  here  means  simply  hid  in  the  water,  submerged ; 
a  frequent  use  of  the  word.  Thus  in  The  Faerie  Quecne, 
i.  ii : — 

"  Now  gan  the  golden  Phoebus  for  to  steepe 
His  fierie  face  in  billows  of  the  west." 

112.  Saints  in  your  injuries: — "When  you  have  a  mind  to  do 
injuries,  you  put  on  an  air  of  sanctity." 

144-148.  "  The  sense,"  says  Warburton,  "  is  this:  One  that  was 
so  conscious  of  her  own  merit,  and  of  the  authority  her  character 
had  with  every  one,  that  she  durst  call  upon  malice  itself  to  vouch 
for  her.  This  was  strong  commendation.  And  the  character  only 
of  clearest  virtue ;  which  could  force  malice,  even  against  its 
nature,  to  do  justice." 

156.  To  exchange  a  delicacy  for  coarser  fare,  the  head  being 
the  best  part  of  the  cod,  the  tail  the  worst  of  the  salmon. 

161.  That  is,  to  suckle  children  and  keep  the  accounts  of  the 
household. 

184.  fair  warrior: — Perhaps  Othello  intends  a  playful  allusion 
to  the  unwillingness  Desdemona  has  expressed  to  be  left  behind, 
a  moth  of  peace,  and  he  go  to  the  war.  Steevens,  however,  thinks 
it  was  a  term  of  endearment  derived  from  the  old  French  poets ; 
as  Ronsard,  in  his  Sonnets,  often  calls  the  ladies  guerrieres. 

201-203.  [Aside.}  Coleridge  pronounces  lago  "  a  being  next  to 
devil,  and  only  not  quite  devil."  It  is  worth  noting  that  Milton's 
Satan  relents  at  the  prospect  of  ruining  the  happiness  before  him, 
and  prefaces  the  deed  with  a  gush  of  pity  for  the  victims ;  whereas 
the  same  thought  puts  lago  in  a  transport  of  jubilant  ferocity.  Is 
our  idea  of  Satan's  wickedness  enhanced  by  his  thus  indulging 
such  feelings,  and  then  acting  in  defiance  of  them,  or  as  if  he 
had  them  not?  or  is  lago  more  devilish  than  he? 

208.  out  of  fashion : — Out  of  method,  without  any  setttled  or- 
der of  discourse. 

223.  Lay  thy  finger  thus : — On  thy  mouth  to  stop  it,  while  thou 
art  listening  to  a  wiser  man. 

176 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Notes 

262, 263.  index  .  .  .  prologue : — Indexes  were  formerly  pre- 
fixed to  books. 

314.  in  the  rank  garb : — In  the  right-down,  or  straight-forward 
fashion.  In  King  Lear,  Cornwall  says  of  Kent  in  disguise,  that 
he  "  doth  affect  a  saucy  roughness,  and  constrains  the  garb  quite 
from  his  nature."  Gower  says  of  Fluellen,  in  King  Henry  V ., 
"  You  thought,  because  he  could  not  speak  English  in  the  native 
garb,  he  could  not  therefore  handle  an  English  cudgel." 

320.  "  An  honest  man,"  says  Johnson,  "  acts  upon  a  plan,  and 
forecasts  his  designs ;  but  a  knave  depends  upon  temporary  and 
local  opportunities,  and  never  knows  his  own  purpose,  but  at  the 
time  of  execution." 

Scene  III. 

57.  elements: — As  quarrelsome  as  the  discordia  semina  rerum; 
as  quick  in  opposition  as  fire  and  water. 

62.  Every  scheme  subsisting  only  in  the  imagination  may  be 
termed  a  dream. 

80-83.  In  The  Captain  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  one  of  the 
persons  asks,  "Are  the  Englishmen  such  stubborn  drinkers?" 
and  another  answers  thus :  "  Not  a  leak  at  sea  can  suck  more 
liquor:  you  shall  have  their  children  christened  in  mull'd  sack, 
and  at  five  years  old  able  to  knock  a  Dane  down."  And  in  Henry 
Peacham's  Compleat  Gentleman,  1622,  we  have  the  following: 
"  Within  these  fiftie  or  threescore  yeares  it  was  a  rare  thing  with 
us  to  see  a  drunken  man.  But  since  we  had  to  doe  in  the  quarrell 
of  the  Netherlands,  the  custom  of  drinking  and  pledging  healthes 
was  brought  over  into  England ;  wherein  let  the  Dutch  be  their 
owne  judges,  if  we  equall  them  not;  yea,  I  think,  rather  excell 
them." 

85.  /  'II  do  you  justice : — That  is,  drink  as  much  as  you  do : 
old  pot-house  slang. 

87-94.  These  stanzas  are  copied,  with  a  few  slight  variations, 
from  an  old  ballad  entitled  "  Take  thy  old  Cloak  about  thee," 
which  is  reprinted  entire  in  Percy's  Reliqnes. 

122,  123.  How  differently  the  liar  speaks  of  Cassio's  soldiership 
to  Mcntano  and  to  Roderigo !  He  is  now  talking  where  he  is 
liable  to  be  called  to  account  for  his  words. 

130.  If  he  have  no  drink,  he  will  keep  awake  while  the  clock 
strikes  two  rounds,  or  four-and-twenty  hours.  The  word  horo- 
loge is  familiar  to  most  of  our  ancient  writers:  Chaucer  often 
uses  it. 

177 


Notes  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

252.  Lead  him  off: — Malone  thought  that  these  words  were  a 
stage  direction  which  had  crept  into  the  text,  because  "  in  our  old 
plays  all  the  stage  directions  were  couched  in  imperative  terms." 
"  Such,"  says  White,  "  is  my  opinion,  and  such  it  was  before  I 
saw  Malone's  note,  but  for  a  different  reason.  If  Othello  had  or- 
dered the  removal  of  Montano,  he  would  have  said,  not  '  Lead 
him  off,'  but  '  Lead  him  azvay.'  We  speak  of  a  man's  being  or 
having  been  led  off,  or  on,  in  the  sense  of  away,  or  onward ;  but 
when  we  direct  a  man  to  be  taken  from  where  we  are,  we  say 
'  away,'  unless  we  are  upon  a  staging,  or  some  place  of  that  kind, 
which,  for  Shakespeare's  purposes,  Othello  was  not.  The  rhythm 
of  this  command,  too,  is  not  like  that  of  Shakespeare's  hemistichs. 
But  as  Folio  and  Quartos  unite  in  the  reading  in  question,  I  do 
not  venture  to  change  it  upon  mere  opinion."  Rolfe  retains  this 
reading.  Hudson  (Harvard  ed.)  omits  it. 

354.  355-  Parallel  course : — Course  parallel  to  or  agreeing  with 
his  good ;  coinciding  with  his  wish  or  design. 

356.  When  devils  will  instigate  to  their  blackest  sins,  they 
tempt,  etc.  We  repeatedly  meet  with  the  same  use  of  put  on,  and 
of  suggests  and  its  cognates  for  tempt. 

382,  383.  Though  other  things,  etc. : — Clarke's  explanation  is, 
"  Although  our  other  plans  are  growing  to  maturity,  yet  the 
fruits  of  our  scheme  for  the  removal  of  Cassio.  as  it  first  bore 
promising  blossom,  will  naturally  first  ripen.  lago  is  trying  to 
inspire  Roderigo  with  patience  for  the  ripening  of  his  plan  against 
Desdemona  by  bidding  him  remember  that  meanwhile  his  plan 
against  Cassio  is  succeeding."  Johnson  explains  the  passage  thus : 
"  Of  many  different  things,  all  planned  with  the  same  art  and 
promoted  with  the  same  diligence,  some  must  succeed  sooner  than 
others,  by  the  order  of  nature.  Everything  cannot  be  done  at 
once;  we  must  proceed  by  the  necessary  gradation.  We  are  not 
to  despair  of  slow  events  any  more  than  of  tardy  fruits,  while  the 
causes  are  in  regular  progress,  and  the  fruits  grow  fair  against 
the  sun." 

ACT  THIRD. 
Scene  I. 

2.  It  was  usual  for  friends  to  serenade  a  new-married  couple 
on  the  morning  after  the  celebration  of  the  marriage,  or  to  greet 
them  with  a  morning  song  to  bid  them  good  morrow. 

178 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Notes 

42.  In  consequence  of  this  line  a  doubt  has  been  entertained  con- 
cerning the  country  of  lago.  Cassio  was  undoubtedly  a  Floren- 
tine, as  appears  by  the  first  Scene  of  the  play,  where  he  is  ex- 
pressly called  one.  That  lago  was  a  Venetian  is  proved  by  a 
speech  in  the  third  Scene  of  this  Act,  and  by  what  he  says  in  the 
fifth  Act,  after  having  stabbed  Roderigo.  All  that  Cassio  means 
to  say  in  the  present  passage  is,  "  I  never  experienced  more  hon- 
esty and  kindness,  even  in  one  of  my  own  countrymen." 

44.  your  displeasure : — The  displeasure  you  have  incurred  from 
Othello. 

Scene  III. 

14  et  seq.  That  policy,  etc. : — Johnson  explains  this  as  fol- 
lows :  He  may  either  of  himself  think  it  politic  to  keep  me  out 
of  office  so  long,  or  he  may  be  satisfied  with  such  slight  reasons, 
or  so  many  accidents  may  make  him  think  my  readmission  at  that 
time  improper,  that  I  may  be  quite  forgotten. 

23.  / '//  watch  him  tame : — Hawks  and  other  birds  are  tamed 
by  keeping  them  from  sleep.  To  this  Shakespeare  alludes. 

90.  The  word  wretch  was  a  term  of  the  fondest  tenderness  and 
endearment.  Shakespeare  often  uses  it  so. 

91, 92.  The  meaning  is,  "  Ere  I  cease  to  love  thee,  the  world 
itself  shall  be  reduced  to  its  primitive  chaos."  But  is  used  in  its 
exceptive  sense ;  but  that,  or  "  if  I  do  not  love  thee." 

96.  He  did,  etc. : — In  Act  I.  Sc.  ii.,  when  lago,  speaking  of  the 
Moor  to  Cassio,  says,  "  He  's  married,"  Cassio  asks,  "  To  whom?  " 
Yet  here  he  seems  to  have  known  all  about  it.  Of  course  the  ex- 
planation is,  that  Cassio  there  feigned  ignorance,  in  order  to  keep 
his  friend's  secret  till  it  should  be  publicly  known. 

123.  close  delations : — "  Close  delations  "  are  secret  accusings, 
intimations.  So  in  Ben  Jonson's  Volpone,  II.  iii. :  "  Yet,  if  I  do 
it  not,  they  may  delate  my  slackness  to  my  patron."  It  should  be 
noted,  that  in  all  this  part  of  the  dialogue  the  doubts  started  in 
Othello  by  the  villain's  artful  insinuations  have  reference  only  to 
Cassio.  There  is  not  the  least  sign  that  the  Moor's  thoughts  any- 
wise touch  his  wife ;  and  lago  seeems  perplexed  that  his  sus- 
picions have  lighted  elsewhere  than  he  had  intended. 

136  et  seq.  Utter  my  thoughts,  etc.: — Who  has  so  virtuous  a 
breast  that  some  impure  conceptions  and  uncharitable  surmises 
will  not  sometimes  enter  into  it ;  hold  a  session  there,  as  in  a 
regular  court,  and  "  bench  by  the  side  "  of  authorized  and  lawful 

179 


Notes  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

thoughts?  A  Icet  is  also  called  a  law-day.  "  This  court,  in  whose 
manor  soever  kept,  was  accounted  the  king's  court,  and  commonly 
held  every  half  year  " :  it  was  a  meeting  of  the  hundred  "  to  cer- 
tify the  king  of  the  good  manners  and  government  of  the  in- 
habitants." 

166,  167.  the  green-eyed  monster,  etc.: — Hanmer  changed  mock 
to  make,  and  the  change  has  been  frequently  adopted,  among 
other  commentators,  by  Hudson.  Schmidt  conjectures  that  make 
may  be  correct.  Furness  and  Rolfe  adhere  to  mock,  the  former 
remarking:  "The  meat  that  jealousy  feeds  on  is  the  victim  of 
jealousy,  the  jealous  man,  who  is  mocked  with  trifles  light  as 
air."  White  says  that  jealousy  "  is  fed  by  the  objects  of  its  open 
scorn  and  derision.  For  we  all  know,  as  well  as  lago,  that 
the  green-eyed  monster  is  like  Pistol,  and  if  it  '  can  mock  a  leek.' 
it  '  can  eat  a  leek.'  Had  the  original  text  read  make  there  could 
have  been  no  question  as  to  its  soundness.  But  both  Folio  and 
Quarto  have,  -which  doth  mocke.  The  curious  reader  will  find 
five  pages  of  comment  upon  this  passage  in  the  Variorum  of  1821." 

173.  riches  Uncless,  etc.: — Fineless  is  endless,  unbounded.  War- 
burton  observes  that  this  is  finely  expressed — winter  producing 
no  fruits. 

182.  exsuffiicatc : — This  is  the  only  known  instance  of  exsuf- 
nicatc.  Phillips  interprets  sufflation  "  a  puffing  up,  a  making  to 
swell  with  blowing."  In  Platus  we  have  "  sufilavit  nescio  quid 
uxore  " ;  which  Cooper  renders,  "  He  hath  whispered  something 
in  his  wifes  eare  whatsoever  it  be."  Richardson's  explanation  is. 
"  Exsufflicate,  in  Shakespeare,  is  not  improbably  a  misprint  for 
cxsufflate,  that  is,  cfRate  or  eMatcd,  puffed  out,  and,  consequently 
exaggerated,  extravagant ;  to  which  blown  is  added,  not  so  much 
for  the  sake  of  a  second  epithet,  with  a  new  meaning,  as  of  giving 
emphasis  to  the  first." 

249.  You  shall  discover  whether  he  thinks  his  best  means,  his 
most  powerful  interest,  is  by  the  solicitation  of  your  lady. 

259,200.  And  knows  .  .  .  dealings: — "He  knows  with  a 
learned  spirit  all  qualities  of  human  dealings." 

260.  Haggard  is  wild,  unreclaimed ;  commonly  used  of  a  hawk. 
So  in  Sir  Thomas  Browne's  Religio  Medici :  "  Thus  I  teach  my 
haggard  and  unreclaimed  reason  to  stoop  to  the  lure  of  faith." 
A  passage  in  The  White  Devil,  or  Vittoria  Corombona,  1612, 
shows  that  the  term  was  sometimes  applied  to  a  wanton :  "  Is  this 
your  perch,  you  haggard?  fly  to  the  stews." 

292.  hundred: — Here  used   for  an   indefinite  number;     still    it 

180 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Notes 

shows  that  the  unity  of  time  is  much  less  observed  in  this  play 
than  some  have  supposed.  Thus  far  only  one  night  since  that  of 
the  marriage  has  been  expressly  accounted  for ;  and  this  was  the 
night  when  the  nuptials  were  celebrated,  and  Cassio  cashiered; 
though  several  must  have  passed  during  the  sea-voyage.  From 
lago's  soliloquy  at  the  close  of  Act  I.,  it  is  clear  he  had  his  plot 
even  then  so  far  matured,  that  he  might  often  woo  his  wife  to 
steal  the  handkerchief  while  at  sea.  Moreover,  we  may  well 
enough  suppose  a  considerable  interval  of  time  between  the  first 
and  third  Scenes  of  the  present  Act;  since  Cassio  may  not  have 
had  the  interview  with  Desdemona  immediately  after  he  engaged 
Emilia  to  solicit  it  for  him. 

296.  ta'cn  out : — Meaning  that  she  will  have  it  copied.  Her 
first  thoughts  are  to  have  a  copy  made  of  it  for  her  husband,  and 
restore  the  original  to  Desdemona ;  but  the  sudden  coming  in  of 
lago,  in  a  surly  humour,  makes  her  alter  her  resolution. 

330.  Look,  where  he  comes! — "That  is,"  explains  Steevens. 
"  I  knew  the  least  touch  of  such  a  passion  would  not  permit  the 
Moor  a  moment  of  repose;  I  have  just  said  that  jealousy  is  a 
restless  commotion  of  the  mind ;  and  look,  where  Othello  ap- 
proaches, to  confirm  my  observation." 

350  et  seq.  There  is  some  resemblance  between  this  speech  and 
the  following  lines  in  Peek's  Farewell  to  the  Famous  and  For- 
tunate Generals  of  our  English  Forces,  1589: — 

"  Change  love  for  armes ;  gyrt  to  your  blades,  my  boyes ; 
Your  rests  and  muskets  take,  take  helme  and  targe, 
And  let  god  Mars  his  trumpet  make  you  mirth, 
The  roaring  cannon,  and  the  brazen  trumpe, 
The  angry-sounding  drum,  the  whistling  fife, 
The  shriekes  of  men,  the  princelie  courser's  ncy." 

352.  In  mentioning  the  fife  joined  to  the  drum,  Shakespeare,  as 
usual,  paints  from  life ;  those  instruments,  accompanying  each 
other,  being  used  in  his  age  by  the  English  soldiery.  The  fife, 
however,  as  a  martial  instrument,  was  afterwards  discontinued 
for  many  years,  but  at  length  revived  by  the  British  guards  under 
the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  when  they  were  encamped  before 
Maestricht  in  1747,  and  thence  adopted  into  other  English  regi- 
ments of  infantry. 

449,450.  Swell  .  .  .  tongues! — Swell,  because  the  freight 
thou  art  charged  with  is  that  of  poison,  as  from  the  deadly  bites 
of  asps. 

181 


Notes  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

467-469.  The  meaning  here,  as  explained  by  Mr.  Joseph  Crosby, 
is:  "Let  him  command  whatever  bloody  work  he  may,  to  per- 
form it  shall  be  with  me  a  matter  of  conscience." 

Scene  IV. 

24.  /  know  not: — Objection  has  been  made  to  the  conduct  of 
Emilia  in  this  scene,  as  inconsistent  with  the  spirit  she  afterwards 
shows.  But  it  is  not  easy  to  discover  any  such  inconsistency. 
Want  of  principle  and  strength  of  attachment  are  often  thus  seen 
united.  Emilia  loves  her  mistress  deeply ;  but  she  has  no  moral 
repugnance  to  theft  and  falsehood,  apprehends  no  fatal  conse- 
quences from  the  Moor's  passion,  and  has  no  soul  to  conceive 
the  agony  her  mistress  must  suffer  by  the  charge  of  infidelity ;  and 
it  is  but  natural  that  when  the  result  comes  she  should  be  the 
more  spirited  for  the  very  remembrance  of  her  own  guilty  part 
in  the  process.  It  is  the  seeing  of  the  end  that  rouses  such  people, 
and  rouses  them  all  the  more  that  they  themselves  have  served 
as  means. 

26.  crusadoes : — It  appears  from  Rider's  Dictionary  that  there 
were  three  sorts  of  crusadoes ;  one  with  a  long  cross,  one  with  a 
short  cross,  and  the  great  crusado  of  Portugal.  They  were  of 
gold,  and  differed  in  value  from  six  shillings  and  eight  pence  to 
nine  shillings. 

47.  new  heraldry : — This  "  new  heraldry  "  appears  to  be  an  al- 
lusion to  the  bloody  hand  borne  on  the  arms  of  the  new  order  of 
baronets,  created  by  James  I.  in  1611.  Malone,  with  much  prob- 
ability, quotes,  in  illustration  of  the  text,  the  following  from  the 
Essays  of  Sir  William  Cornwallis,  1601 :  "  We  of  these  later 
times,  full  of  a  nice  curiositie,  mislike  all  the  performances  of 
our  forefathers ;  we  say  they  were  honest  plaine  men,  but  they 
want  the  capering  wits  of  this  ripe  age.  They  had  wont  to  give 
their  hands  and  hearts  together,  but  we  think  it  a  finer  grace  to 
looke  asquint,  our  hand  looking  one  way  and  our  heart  another." 

57.  a  charmer: — Used  for  an  enchanter  in  the  Psalms.  So  in 
Perkins's  Discourse  of  the  damned  Art  of  Witchcraft,  1610:  "By 
witches  we  understand  not  only  those  which  kill  and  torment,  but 
all  charmers,  jugglers,  all  wizards,  commonly  called  wise  men 
and  wise  women." 

65.  To  give  it  her: — Of  course  her  refers  to  the  noun  implied 
in  wive.  In  the  last  scene  of  the  play,  Othello  speaks  of  the  hand- 
kerchief as  "  an  antique  token  my  father  gave  my  mother."  This 

182 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Notes 

has  been  thought  an  oversight;  Steevens  regards  it  as  a  fresh 
proof  of  the  Poet's  art.  "  The  first  account,"  says  he,  "  was  pur- 
posely ostentatious,  in  order  to  alarm  his  wife  the  more.  When 
he  again  mentions  it,  the  truth  was  sufficient." 

74.  dyed  in  mummy : — The  balsamic  liquor  running  from 
mummies  was  formerly  celebrated  for  its  anti-epileptic  virtues. 
It  was  much  coveted  by  painters,  as  a  transparent  brown  colour 
that  threw  a  warmth  into  the  shadows  of  a  picture. 

169.  "What  are  you  doing  away  from  home?"  We  repeatedly 
meet  with  the  same  phraseology  in  Shakespeare. 

173.  A  week  away : — It  would  seem,  by  this,  that  seven  days 
at  least  have  elapsed  since  Cassio  was  cashiered ;  perhaps  much 
more,  as  the  "  leaden  thoughts  "  may  have  been  kept  off  for  some 
time  by  the  hopes  built  upon  Desdemona's  promise  of  intercession, 
and  brought  on  again  by  the  unexpected  delay. 

180.  Take  me  this  work  out : — Copy  this  work  in  another  hand- 
kerchief. So  in  Middleton's  Women  beware  Women :  "  She  in- 
tends to  take  out  other  works  in  a  new  sampler."  Again,  in  the 
Preface  to  Holland's  Pliny,  1601  :  "  Nicophanes  gave  his  mind 
wholly  to  antique  pictures,  partly  to  exemplify  and  take  out  pat- 
terns, after  that  in  long  continuance  of  time  they  were  decayed." 

ACT  FOURTH. 
Scene  I. 

I.  We  must  suppose  that  lago  had  been  applying  cases  of  false 
comfort  to  Othello ;  as  that,  though  the  parties  had  been  even 
found  exchanging  endearments,  there  might  be  no  harm  done :  it 
might  be  only  for  trial  of  their  virtue.  In  these  pretended  excu- 
sings  lago  seeks  only  to  intensify  the  sufferings  which  he  pro- 
fesses to  allay. 

8.  The  devil  tempts  their  -virtue  by  stirring  up  their  passions, 
and  they  tempt  heaven  by  placing  themselves  in  a  situation  which 
makes  it  scarcely  possible  to  avoid  falling  by  the  gratification  of 
them.  Perhaps  the  story  of  St.  Adhelm,  related  in  Bale's  Actes 
of  Englysh  Votaries,  is  referred  to:  "This  Adhelmus  never  re- 
fused women,  but  wold  have  them  commonly  both  at  borde  and 
bedde,  to  mocke  the  Devyll  with." 

21,22.  The  raven  was  thought  to  be  a  bird  of  ill  omen,  given 
to  hovering  about  houses  infected  with  the  plague. 

183 


Notes  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

28.  Convinced : — Having  either  conquered  her  reluctance  or 
complied  with  her  wish.  The  proper  meaning  of  convince  is  con- 
quer or  overcome. 

41-43.  Nature  .  .  .  instruction : — This  passage  has  called 
forth  much  critical  discussion.  As  suggested  by  Johnson,  Othello 
seems  to  say,  "  This  passion,  which  spreads  its  clouds  over  me, 
is  the  effect  of  some  agency  more  than  the  operation  of  words : 
it  is  one  of  those  notices  which  men  have  of  unseen  calamities." 
Or  the  sense  may  be  given,  as  by  Sir  J.  Reynolds,  something  thus : 
"  Nature  would  not  in  Cassio  clothe  herself  in  such  shadowing 
passion,  or  would  not  give  out  such  adumbrations  of  passion, 
without  some  former  experience,  or  the  instruction  of  some  fore- 
going fact." 

45.  "  The  starts,"  says  Warburton,  "  and  broken  reflections  in 
this  speech  have  something  in  them  very  terrible,  and  show  the 
mind  of  the  speaker  to  be  in  inexpressible  agonies."  The  trance 
is  thus  justified  by  Sir  J.  Reynolds:  "Othello,  in  broken  sen- 
tences and  single  words,  all  of  which  have  a  reference  to  the 
cause  of  his  jealousy,  shows  that  all  the  proofs  are  present  at 
once  to  his  mind,  which  so  overpower  it  that  he  falls  into  a 
trance — the  natural  consequence." 

69.  Beds  which  really  do  not  pertain  to  themselves  alone ;  beds 
which  are  not  peculiarly  or  specially  their  own,  but  are  shared  in 
common  with  others. 

121.  Othello  calls  Cassio  Roman  ironically,  probably  in  allusion 
to  his  apparent  elation,  calling  to  Othello's  mind  the  triumphs 
or  triumphant  career  of  the  Romans. 

247,  248.  If  that  the  earth  .  .  .  crocodile : — By  the  doctrine 
of  equivocal  generation  new  animals  were  supposed  producible 
by  new  combinations  of  matter.  Shakespeare  here  alludes  to  the 
fabulous  accounts  which  make  the  crocodile  the  most  deceitful 
of  animals.  In  Bullokar's  Expositor,  1616,  occurs  the  following: 
"  It  is  written  that  he  will  weep  over  a  man's  head  when  he  hath 
devoured  the  body,  and  will  then  eat  up  the  head  too."  Where- 
fore in  Latin  there  is  a  proverb,  "  Crocodili  lachrymse.  crocodiles 
teares,  to  signifie  such  teares  as  are  feigned,  and  spent  only  with 
intent  to  deceive  or  do  harm." 

265.  Goats  and  monkeys! — In  this  exclamation  Shakespeare  has 
shown  great  art.  lago  in  Act  III.  Sc.  iii.,  being  urged  to  give 
some  ocular  proof  of  the  guilt  of  Cassio  and  Desdemona,  tells 
the  Moor  it  were  impossible  to  have  ocular  demonstration  of  it, 
"  were  they  as  prime  as  goats,  as  hot  as  monkeys."  These  words 

184 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Notes 

still  ring  in  the  ears  of  Othello,  who.  being  now  fully  convinced 
of  his  wife's  infidelity,  explodes  with  this  involuntary  exclamation. 


Scene  II. 

54,55.  A  fixed  figure  .  .  .  finger  at! — Much  has  been  writ- 
ten upon  this  famous  passage,  and  various  changes  proposed. 
"  The  time  of  scorn  "  probably  means,  as  Knight  says,  the  age  of 
scorn,  that  is,  the  whole  period  during  which  scorn  may  be  said 
to  live.  The  "fixed  figure"  is  simply  the  speaker  himself,  and 
not,  as  been  so  much  supposed,  a  figure  on  a  dial.  As  to  "  slow 
unmoving,"  the  sense  of  it  can  be  better  felt  than  expressed :  we 
can  see  the  sneer  darting  from  the  inexorable  finger,  ever  slowly 
moving  with  the  object,  never  moving  from  it;  but  we  cannot 
speak  it  in  any  words  but  Shakespeare's,  as  they  stand  in  the  text. 

74.  make  very  forges  of  my  cheeks : — Othello  has  already,  when 
with  lago,  spoken  Desdemona's  imputed  deeds  very  plainly ;  and 
would  Shakespeare  have  forgotten  that  Othello's  cheeks  were  too 
dark  to  show  a  blush?  or  still  more,  would  he  have  referred  the 
blush  in  such  a  case  to  the  countenance  of  the  man  when  the 
woman  was  present?  In  Titus  Andronicus,  IV.  ii.,  Aaron,  the 
Moor,  when  Chiron  says,  "  I  blush  to  think  upon  this  ignpmy " 
(of  his  mother's  having  a  mulatto  child),  replies: — 

"  Why,  there  's  the  privilege  your  beauty  bears : 
Fie,  treacherous  hue,  that  will  betray  with  blushing 
The  close  enacts  and  counsels  of  the  heart ! 
Here  's  a  young  lad  framed  of  another  leer" 

88.  /  cry  you  mercy : — That  is,  "  I  ask  your  pardon." 
91.  The  office  opposed  to  Saint  Peter;  alluding,  evidently,  to 
"  the  power  of  the  keys,"  which  was  given  to  the  Apostles  gen- 
erally, and  especially  to  Saint  Peter  as  representing  them.  So 
that  the  opposition  is  between  Emilia  as  keeper  of  the  gate  of 
Hell  and  Saint  Peter  as  keeper  of  the  gate  of  Heaven.  The  sense, 
therefore,  requires  that  the  special  emphasis,  if  there  be  any, 
should  be  laid  on  opposite. 

104.  go  by  water: — Be  expressed  by  tears.  A  similar  conceit  is 
found  in  Hamlet,  IV.  vii.  186,  187 : — 

"  Too  much  of  water  hast  thou,  poor  Ophelia, 
And  therefore  I  forbid  my  tears." 

185 


Notes  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

144.  Speak  within  door: — Do  not  clamour  so  as  to  be  heard  be- 
yond the  house. 

167.  he  does  chide  with  you: — This  was  the  phraseology  of  the 
time.  So  Baret :  "  To  complaine,  to  make  a  quarrel,  to  chide 
with  one  for  a  thing.  Expostulare  et  queri."  So  too  in  the  Poet's 
CXIth  Sonnet:  "  O,  for  my  sake  do  you  with  fortune  chide.'' 

212,  213.  /  grant  .  .  .  judgement: — "  Shakespeare,"  says  Ma- 
lone,  "  knew  well  that  most  men  like  to  be  flattered  on  account 
of  those  endowments  in  which  they  are  most  deficient.  Hence 
lago's  compliment  to  this  snipe  on  his  sagacity  and  shrewdness." 

226.  goes  into  Mauritania : — This  passage  proves,  so  far  as  any- 
thing said  by  lago  may  be  believed,  that  Othello  was  not  meant 
to  be  a  negro,  as  has  been  represented,  both  on  the  stage  and  off, 
but  a  veritable  Moor.  His  kindred,  the  Mauritanians — from 
whose  "  men  of  royal  siege  he  fetched  his  life  and  being,"  and 
among  whom  he  was  about  to  retire — though  apt  enough  to  be 
confounded  with  the  negroes,  were  as  different  from  them,  ex- 
ternally, as  brown  is  from  black;  internally,  in  mind  and  char- 
acter, the  difference  was  far  greater. 

236.  He  sups  to-night  with  a  harlotry : — See  "  a  peevish  self- 
will'd  harlotry,"  i  King  Henry  IV .,  III.  i.,  and  the  very  same 
phrase  in  Romeo  and  Juliet,  IV.  ii. 

Scene  III. 

ii.  Hazlitt  calls  this  "one  of  those  side  intimations  of  the  fluc- 
tuations of  passion,  which  we  seldom  meet  with  but  in  Shake- 
speare. He  has  here  put  into  half  a  line  what  some  authors  would 
have  spun  out  into  ten  set  speeches." 

55~57-  [Singing.]  These  lines  sung  by  Desdemona  are  from  an 
old  ballad,  entitled  A  Lover's  Complaint,  being  forsaken  of  his 
Love.  The  ballad  may  be  found  entire  in  Percy's  Reliqucs.  It  is 
there  the  lament  of  a  man :  Shakespeare  adapted  it  to  the  sex  of 
"  poor  Barbara."  Subjoined  are  the  stanzas  from  which  he  bor- 
rowed : — 

A  poore  soule  sat  sighing  under  a  sicamore  tree; 

O  willow,  willow,  willow ! 
With  his  hand  on  his  bosom,  his  head  on  his  knee: 

O  willow,  willow,  willow ! 
Sing,  O  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland. 

186 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Notes 

The  cold  streams  ran  by  him,  his  eyes  wept  apace ; 

O  willow,  willow,  willow ! 
The  salt  tears  fell  from  him,  which  drowned  his  face : 

O  willow,  willow,  willow ! 
Sing,  O  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland. 

The  mute  birds  sat  by  him,  made  tame  by  his  mones ; 

O  willow,  willow,  willow ! 
The  salt  tears  fell  from  him,  which  soften'd  the  stones : 

O  willow,  willow,  willow  ! 
Sing,  O  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland. 

Let  nobody  blame  me,  her  scorns  I  do  prove ; 

O  willow,  willow,  willow  ! 
She  was  borne  to  be  faire ;  I  to  die  for  her  love : 

O  willow,  willow,  willow  ! 
Sing,  O  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland. 

73.  A  joint-ring  was  anciently  a  token  of  troth-plight  between 
lovers,  like  the  piece  of  broken  gold  in  the  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 
Dryden  has  a  minute  description  of  it  in  his  Don  Sebastian : — 

"  A  curious  artist  wrought  them 
With  joints  so  close  as  not  to  be  perceiv'd; 
Yet  are  they  both  each  other's  counterpart : 
Her  part  had  Juan  inscrib'd,  and  his  had  Zayda. 
(You  know  these  names  are  theirs,)  and  in  the  midst 
A  heart  divided  in  two  halves  was  plac'd. 
Now,  if  the  rivets  of  those  rings  enclos'd 
Fit  not  each  other,  I  have  forg'd  this  lie ; 
But,  if  they  join,  you  must  for  ever  part." 


ACT  FIFTH. 
Scene  I. 

II.  A  quat,  in  provincial  usage,  was  a  pimple,  which  by  rubbing 
could  be  made  to  smart.  Roderigo  is  called  a  quat  in  the  same 
manner  that  a  low  fellow  was  vulgarly  termed  a  scab.  To  rub  to 
the  sense  is  to  rub  to  the  quick. 


Notes  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO. 

Scene  II. 

r.  Othello's  act  is  caused  by  her  supposed  crime.  Herein  alone 
he  finds  his  self-justification. 

2.  Steevens  declares  that  there  is  "  no  classical  authority  "  for 
chaste  stars.  But  Othello  has  authority  as  good,  perhaps,  as 
classical,  in  the  supposed  unchastity  of  his  wife,  which  is  the 
cause  of  his  present  purpose,  and  which  the  purity  of  the  stars 
withholds  him  from  naming  in  their  presence.  No  classical  au- 
thority !  The  phrase  itself  is  classical  now. 

21.  this  sorrow 's  heavenly : — Is  of  heavenward  tendency. 

65.  A  murder,  etc. : — Some  editors  have  managed  to  stumble 
at  this  passage.  The  language  is  indeed  compressed,  but  the 
meaning  seems  clear  enough.  Othello  goes  about  the  killing  of 
his  wife  as  an  act  of  religion,  and  he  fears  lest  her  perjury  may 
excite  his  anger,  and  so  corrupt  the  deed  into  an  act  of  revenge. 
This  is  Johnson's  explanation :  "  Thou  hardencst  my  heart,  and 
makest  me  kill  thee  with  the  rage  of  a  murderer,  when  I  thought 
to  have  sacrificed  thee  to  justice  with  the  calmness  of  a  priest 
striking  a  victim." 

82.  Being  done,  etc. : — Othello  regards  the  act  as  done,  when 
the  conflict  between  his  love  and  honour  is  fully  over,  his  resolu- 
tion finally  taken,  and  his  hand  raised  to  strike.  To  admit  any 
pause  in  such  a  case,  were  but  to  prolong  the  suffering  of  the 
victim. 

88.  So,  so : — At  these  words,  the  Othello  of  the  stage  is  made  to 
stab  Desdemona.  There  is  no  such  direction  in  any  of  the  old 
copies;  but  still  the  stage-custom  may  be  right;  as,  in  the  agony 
of  the  moment,  and  in  his  desire  "  not  to  have  her  linger  in  her 
pain,"  Othello's  resolution  not  to  shed  her  blood  might  be  over- 
come. It  seems  more  natural,  too,  that  Desdemona  should  speak 
after  being  stabbed  than  after  being  smothered  to  death. 

183.  charm  your  tongue : — To  charm  is  to  still  or  hush  as  with 
a  charm.  Pliny  informs  us  that  favete  linguis  was  the  constant 
exclamation  before  any  charm  was  applied.  From  this  circum- 
stance the  phrase  to  charm  a  tongue,  may  have  originated. 

192.  /  thought  so  then  : — That  is,  when  she  gave  Desdemona' s 
handkerchief  to  lago ;  for  even  then  Emilia  appears  to  have  sus- 
pected it  was  sought  after  for  no  honest  purpose. 

212.  A  thousand  times : — An  indefinite  number.  See  a  hundred 
times,  III.  iii.  292. 

239.  Strictly  speaking,  lago  cannot  be  called  a  notorious  vil- 

188 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Notes 

lain,  as  his  villainy  was  not  known.  The  meaning  is  egregious, 
as  in  IV.  ii.  140. 

253.  The  way  of  tempering  steel  is  by  plunging  it  red-hot  into 
cold  water;  and  the  colder  the  water,  the  higher  the  temper  at- 
tained. Steevens  has  shown  from  Martial  and  Justin  that  in 
Spain  the  waters  of  the  Salo  and  the  Chalybes,  being  remarkable 
for  coldness,  were  used  in  tempering  swords.  As  Toledo  blades 
were  famous  all  over  Europe  in  the  Poet's  time,  he  might  easily 
learn  that  they  were  of  the  ice-brook's  temper  without  going  to 
classical  authorities. 

286.  /  look  down  towards  his  feet: — Alluding  to  the  devil's 
fabled  cloven  foot.  Othello  looks  down  towards  lago's  feet  to 
see  if  he  has  that  sign  of  being  a  devil,  but  then  concludes  that 
he  may  be  just  as  much  a  devil  without  it. 

347.  Coleridge  remarks  upon  this  passage :  "  Othello  wishes  to 
excuse  himself  on  the  score  of  ignorance,  and  yet  not  excuse  him- 
self— to  excuse  himself  by  accusing.  This  struggle  of  feeling  is 
finely  conveyed  in  the  word  base,  which  is  applied  to  the  rude 
Indian,  not  in  his  own  character,  but  as  the  momentary  represen- 
tative of  Othello's."  Whether  Shakespeare  meant  an  allusion  to 
any  particular  story  of  an  Indian,  or  to  the  Indians  as  generally 
described,  is  not  quite  clear;  probably,  the  latter.  Thus  in  Dray- 
ton's  Legend  of  Matilda :  "  The  wretched  Indian  spumes  the 
golden  ore."  So  again  in  The  Woman's  Conquest,  by  Sir  Ed- 
ward Howard :  "  Behold  my  queen,  who  with  no  more  concern 
He  cast  away  then  Indians  do  a  pearl,  that  ne'er  did  know  its 
value." 

352.  Aleppo : — It  is  said  to  have  been  immediate  death  for  a 
Christian  to  strike  a  Turk  in  Aleppo. 

361.  Spartan  dog: — The  dogs  of  Spartan  breed  were  among  the 
most  fierce  and  savage. 


189 


TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 


Questions  on  Othello. 


1.  What  is  known  of  the  early  editions  of  Othello ;  of  the  date 
of  its  composition? 

2.  What   can   you   say   of  the   original    stage   Othello ;    of  the 
sources  of  the  plot? 

3.  What  is  the  duration  of  action  in  this  play? 

ACT  FIRST. 

4.  How  was  Venice  ruled  at  the  time  of  the  play;  what  was 
the  office  of  Duke  of  Venice;  that  of  Senator? 

5.  What  was  the  Council  of  State;  why  had  it  been  convened? 

6.  What  of  the  Cyprus  wars  to  which  lago  refers  ;  what  was  the 
Sagittary?     (About  1470  Cyprus,  the  scene  of  the  entire  action  of 
Othello,  was  annexed  to  Venice,  and  it  continued  under  Venetian 
rule  until  about  1571.) 

7.  Where  does  lago  first  make  known  his  hatred  of  Othello ; 
what  cause  was  there  for  that  hatred,  as  shown  by  lago? 

8.  What  impression  is  made  by  lago's  estimate  of  himself? 

9.  How  account  for  Othello's  influence  over  Desdemona ;   for 
Brabantio's  reference  of  Desdemona's  submission  to  Othello  to 
witchcraft  ? 

TO.  Describe  Shakespeare's  general  treatment  of  witchcraft; 
how  far  does  it  reflect  the  superstitious  mind  of  his  age? 

n.  Does  the  character  of  Roderigo  include  the  sense  of  honour; 
what  led  him  to  hate  Othello? 

12.  Why  should  Othello  speak  in  the  same  passage  of  the  Can- 
nibals and  the  Anthropophagi? 

13.  With   a  timorous   disposition,   as  appears   later,   how   does 
Desdemona  in  this  Act  speak  for  herself  so  boldly? 

14.  Was  Othello  a  negro?     What  answer  to  this  is  suggested  by 
his  calling  himself  (III.  iii.  263,  387)  black?     What  do  we  know 
of  the  Moors  of  that  day? 

15.  Give  a  brief  summary  of  the  characters  and  action  of  Act  I. 

190 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Questions 

ACT  SECOND. 

16.  What  are  the  conditions  under  which  this  Act  opens? 

17.  What  purpose  is  served  by  introducing  the  Turkish  fleet 
and  its  destruction? 

18.  At  first  impression,  what  sort  of  a  man  is  Cassio? 

19.  When  lago,  in  the  soliloquy  which  ends  Sc.  iii ,  declares 
Othello  to  be  of  a  constant,  loving,  noble  nature,  does  lago  show 
that  he  is  capable  of  compunction? 

20.  Interpret  this  soliloquy  as  a  whole. 

21.  What  does  Cassio  think  of  drunkenness?     Relate  his  expe- 
rience of  it.     How  are  we  affected  by  his  repentance? 

22.  How  do  you  regard  lago's  account   to  Othello  of  the  in- 
cidents following  Cassio's  indiscretion? 

23.  What  part  does  lago  wish  Cassio  to  play ;  what  part  Ro- 
derigo  ? 

24.  How  in  this  Act  does  lago  treat  Roderigo;  why? 

25.  Analyze  the  closing  lines  of  Sc.  iii. 

26.  What  performance   follows  the  purpose  here   outlined   by 
lago? 

27.  How  does  Desdemona  impress  Cassio? 

28.  Give  a  brief  summary  of  Act  II. 

ACT  THIRD. 

29.  Interpret  the  opening  of  the  Act — Clown,  musicians,  etc. 

30.  What  does  the  Clown  mean  by  his  question  about  the  in- 
struments having  been  in  Naples? 

31.  What  tragic  sequence  does  this  light  action  prelude? 

32.  Outline  the  character  of  Emilia. 

33.  Did  she  understand  her  husband? 

34.  Do  you  gain  any  definite  idea  from  lago's  speech  to  Othello 
(Sc.  iii.  144-154)  ;  what  does  Othello  understand  from  it? 

35.  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  (Sc.  iii.  165-167)  ? — 

"  O,  beware,  my  lord,  of  jealousy ; 
It  is  the  green-eyed  monste*-,  which  doth  mock 
The  meat  it  feeds  on." 

36.  Was  Othello  justified  in  attaching  such  weight  to  the  words 
of  lago  beginning,  She  did  deceive  her  father,  marrying  you? 
Was  Desdemona's  conduct  in  the  matter  cited  reprehensible? 

191 


Questions  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 

37.  Upon  what  does  Othello  base  his  opinion  of  lago's  honesty? 

38.  How  does  lago  so  completely  befool  Othello? 

39.  What  wrong  directions  does  Othello's  revenge  take? 

40.  How  does  Desdemona  apprehend  the  feeling  of  jealousy; 
how  does  she  regard  the  jealousy  of  Othello? 

41.  What  of  Desdemona's  behaviour  under  Othello's  suspicion? 

42.  Does    Emilia's    obedience    to    her    husband    after    he    has 
snatched  the  handkerchief  from  her  seem  out  of  keeping  with 
her  character? 

43.  Up  to  the  end  of  this  Act,  how  does  the  character  of  Des- 
demona impress  you ;  that  of  Emilia  ? 

44.  What    new    influence    appears    with    the    introduction    of 
Bianca ;  how  does  she  show  the  effect  of  jealousy?     What  new 
light  does  her  appearance  throw  upon  Cassio? 

45.  How  much  does  Act  III.  advance  the  action  of  the  play? 

ACT  FOURTH. 

46.  Describe  the  increased  efforts  of  lago  to  work  upon  the 
jealousy  and  anger  of  Othello. 

47.  Does  lago  here  exhibit  any  trace  of  human  pity  or  feeling? 

48.  Does  any  other  great  character  of  Shakespeare  approach 
lago  in  heartlessness  and  diabolic  spirit? 

49.  How  are  the  sorrow  and  compassion  of  Othello  portrayed 
in  Sc.  i.  ? 

50.  How  is  shown  the  lowest  depth  of  lago's  devilish  perfidy? 

51.  Explain    (Sc.  i.  248)   Each  drop  she  falls  would  prove  a 
crocodile. 

52.  Does  Emilia  betray  any  suspicion  of  her  husband  when  she 
says  (Sc.  ii.  130-133),  /  will  be  hanged,  etc.? 

53.  Is  Desdemona's  song  essential  to  the  action  of  the  drama ; 
what  is  its  artistic  or  dramatic  purpose;  what  similar  incident  in 
Shakespeare  does  it  recall? 

54.  How  does  Othello  at  first  intend  to  kill  Desdemona;  what 
other  means  does  lago  suggest,  and  why? 

55.  How  does  Desdemona  receive  Othello's  accusation  against 
her ;  how  does  Emilia  treat  it  ? 

56.  Does  lago  deceive  others  as  completely  as  he  does  Othello? 

57.  What  relation  does  Act  IV.  bear  to  the  main  action  of  the 
play? 

192 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE  Questions 

ACT  FIFTH. 

58.  How  would  the  death  of  Cassio  or  Roderigo   further  the 
ends  of  lago? 

59.  What  does  Roderigo's  confession  in  view  of  death  show  as 
to  his  character? 

60.  By  what  means  does  lago  still  forward  his  schemes? 

61.  What  is  Othello's  mental  condition  during  most  of  this  Act? 
How  does  he  justify  himself  in  killing  Desdemona? 

62.  Does  Desdemona  at  last  see  that  she. and  Othello  have  both 
been  betrayed? 

63.  How  does  Desdemona  face  Othello's  final  determination  to 
kill  her;  why  does  she  beg  for  half  an  hour  of  grace? 

64.  How  account  for  the  fact  that  Desdemona  died  with  a  false- 
hood on  her  lips ;  was  it  an  intentional  falsehood,  a  mistake,  or 
the  result  of  a  confused  mind? 

65.  When   Othello  learns  that  Desdemona  was  innocent,   how 
does  he  act? 

66.  Explain  (Sc.  ii.  7)  Put  out  the  light,  and  then  put  out  the 
light. 

67.  What   is  the   allusion   in  line  347:     Like  the  base  Indian, 
threw  a  pearl  away? 

68.  Explain  lago's  last  speech  in  the  play. 

69.  What  is  shown  by  comparing  Desdemona  and  Emilia? 


70.  Is   this   play   marked   by    Shakespeare's    usual   breadth    of 
treatment  ? 

71.  What  is  the  purpose  of  soliloquy  in  the  modern  drama;  has 
it  any  relation  to  the  chorus  of  ancient  drama? 

72.  Describe  the  purpose  and  effect  of  lago's  soliloquy  at  the 
end  of  Act  I. 

73.  Does  any  other  character  of   Shakespeare's   soliloquize  as 
much  as  lago? 

74.  Could  the  subtle  and  wicked  spirit  and  purposes  of  lago  so 
well  be  made  known  in  any  other  manner? 

75.  How  were  love  and  marriage  regarded  by  Othello ;  by  Des- 
demona ;  by  lago  ;  by  Emilia  ? 

76.  Compare  these  characters  in  any  respect  to  others  in  Shake- 
speare. 

77.  Interpret  Shakespeare's  contrasting  of  humour  and  tragedy, 
as  in  Act  III.,  at  its  beginning,  and  at  the  opening  of  Sc.  iv. ; 


Questions 

with  what  scene  of  Hamlet  may  it  be  compared  in  respect  of 
dramatic  purpose? 

78.  In  view  of  his  character,  what  value  has  lago's  estimate  of 
good  name? 

79.  In  the  mouth  of  villainy  has  the  praise  of  virtue  any  ethical 
significance? 

80.  What  is  the  secret  power  by  which  a  man  like  lago  makes 
even    innocent    persons,    as    well    as    circumstances,    conspire   to 
serve  his  evil  purposes  ? 

81.  Is  the  source  of_  lago's  influence  over  Othello  more  to  be 
seen  in  lago's  own  complex  and  diabolical  genius  or  in  Othello's 
simplicity  of  nature? 

82.  What  is  the  ethical  import  of  this  play  as  dealing  with  love, 
jealousy,  hate,  revenge,  etc.? 

83.  Does  good  here  seem  to  be  vanquished  and  evil  prospered ; 
is  the  influence  of  the  play  on  the  side  of  pessimism  or  of  opti- 
mism ? 

84.  Indicate  the  usual  contrasts  between  the  jealousies  of  noble 
souls  and  those  of  base. 

85.  Is  there  anywhere  a  better  portrayal  of  such  contrasts  as 
appear  between  Othello  and  lago  than  in  this  play? 

86.  What  is  to  be  said  of  the  art  whereby  Shakespeare  makes 
the  Moor  so  admirable,  notwithstanding  his  limitations,  and  even 
renders    lago    fascinating   in    spite   of   all    his    "  inscrutable    de- 
pravity "  ? 


194 


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